


A Bad Taste in Men

by Your_Narrator



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bertrum Moneybags Piedmont, Canon Compliant, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Grumpy Old Men, Humor, Is Joey a gold digger? Kind of yeah, M/M, Minor Character Death, Motorcycles, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, Smoking, This fic is my excuse to make Joey Drew suffer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 39,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22026283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Your_Narrator/pseuds/Your_Narrator
Summary: This is your break from the typical BATIM adventure and angst. This is my romcom.Joey Drew is going to learn what feelings are if I have to beat him with them.Indefinite Hiatus
Relationships: Joey Drew & Bertrum Piedmont
Comments: 45
Kudos: 35





	1. Prologue: New Years Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey reminisces on an unexpected meeting, long long ago.

Flashing white lights. A loud murmur of voices. The crowd eagerly anticipated the coming hour. Joey Drew strolled through them, his wine glass sloshing casually between his fingers. The once spotless floor below his feet was now scuffed from heels and loafers, and the walls were trying to back away from the guests to avoid a similar fate. It was a party, a New Years party, but it wasn't Joey's party. Not yet. But one day, it would be. One day he would host parties just like these. Maybe even bigger ones.

He glanced up at the clock. There was less than half an hour to go. Soon, the year would turn to 1926, and not much else would change. Everyone in this room would still be drunk, they'd still be rich, Joey would still find himself tipsy, and he'd still have to drive back home in that old clunker he hid two blocks away. But! None of that mattered. What mattered was why he was here, and how successful he was in his purpose:  _ networking.  _

Joey had never networked harder in his life, and while drinking nonetheless! Every man's hand had been shook, every woman's gloved hand kissed, and every person's name categorized in his mind. His charm had worked overtime that night, making sure every money-born bastard knew his name and his company. There was no way he hadn't made at least one or two future business partners, and that alone made buying the black tie suit, hair products, and cologne all worth it. After all, if these people knew how broke he really was, he wouldn't have been allowed in! But now, he was certain in his efforts. His time had not been wasted. Some day, all of this effort would come to fruition.

He took one of the cigars he had found and lit it up, strolling over to the balcony as a trail of smoke lingered in his steps. After all that schmoozing, he really needed a moment to himself. His heart was pounding, and his hands were on the verge of shaking. Yet he wouldn't be allowed such a relief, as a taller man had already taken to leaning against the balcony bannister with his own cigar. The stranger reeked of money, with a gold pin on his lapel, stunning cufflinks glimmering from his wrists, and a cigar that was worth more than the entire animation studio. However, more important than any of that, Joey had not met this man. He had not been schmoozed! That had to be mixed immediately!

Joey sashayed out on to the balcony, aimless yet curious, "Hello?"

The man perked up and turned to face him. He somehow had a button nose, yet his piercing green eyes could cut a man in half.

"Hello," his thin lips smirked as he took another puff of his cigar, "I don't think we've met."

His voice was deep, smooth, like a caramel truffle, topped with some sort of accent Joey couldn't identify.

"I don't believe we have either," Joey chucked.

"A shame," the man gazed back on to the city.

"Why are you out here when you could be inside?" Joey asked.

"To avoid schmoozers like you."

Joey blinked, "Pardon me?"

"I've seen you, working the floor, wandering from man to woman in search of your desires. They all immediately fell for you."

Joey gazed back out to the street, and then back to his strange acquaintance. He then shook his head in disbelief.

The man added: "You schmooze like a smooth operator."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Joey scoffed, "I'm simply enjoying the party!"

"Alright," the man met his gaze, "Then how come your suit isn't pressed? And where is your watch?"

Joey blinked again, "Uh-"

"And your loafers are so... inexpensive. They're a nice pair - could pass for over two hundred if you're not looking hard enough. But I've seen those in shop mirrors!"

"That's not-"

"And what about your hair?" the man reached up and pushed a strand of Joey's hair back into place, "Not used to fixing it, are you? But the men that come to these parties have a perfect cut every day! Yet yours is falling?"

Joey shoved his hand away, "I'm not here to be insulted!"

"No no no, I'm not insulting you!" the man chirped as his hand fell over his own chest, "I'm complimenting you! Getting together this guise and sneaking into a rich man's party is very impressive! Must have worked hard on the charm that got you in."

"How would you come to ANY of these conclusions?!" Joey demanded, "Who made you a detective?!"

"Nobody," the man pulled his cigar back up to his lips, "This is just my party. And I know I didn't invite you."

Joey's heart crashed, "... invite?"

"Yes!" the man chuckled as he puffed out smoke, "This was an invite-only affair! And you worked your way into it by charm alone! Like I said, I'm impressed."

Joey was stunned into silence. Into absolute vulnerability. He gazed at the stolen cigar he held in his fingers, begging for some sort of guidance, but he received nothing from the inanimate object.

But, he did receive something. 

A hand slid into his view and gently fell on top of his own.

"Did you not hear me?" the man's voice was more of a whisper in the crisp night air, "I'm impressed. And I promise I won't tell anyone."

Joey glanced back to the man and met his eyes.

"I'll even let you stay. You could say your charm has worked on me, too."

Those beautiful, vibrant crisp eyes caught Joey in a trance. They fired a bolt of electricity into him, and he felt... a spark. A spark between them. His eyes swept over the man before him and he then realized...

... this man was flirting with him.

"So you have a liking towards men that break into your parties?" Joey gave a small snort.

"No!" the man chuckled, "... But do you have a liking towards men?"

"Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't," Joey flashed a smile, "And right now I  _ definitely do." _

The man's face lit up, "Well, that is exceptionally good news. And if you  _ must  _ know, I have a liking towards men with ambition. Men that go the distance for what they desire. And if that means breaking into my party to make friends... then so be it."

Joey's heart leapt, and behind them the crowded apartment grew louder.

"So what you're saying is I'm right up your alley, hm?" Joey finally got to smirk.

"What I'm  _ saying _ is you have my interest," the man replied cooly.

Joey glanced down, "What I'm  _ seeing _ is you're still holding my hand."

"And if I am, what does that matter?" the man looked away.

"I think it matters a whole lot, Mister...?"

"10! 9!"

Joey glanced back into the apartment.

"8!"

He turned back to find a hand reaching towards his face.

"7!"

The mystery man's hand cupped his cheek with a gentle touch.

"6!"

Joey returned the gesture, his finger stroking the man's cheek.

"5!"

The man pushed up towards Joey.

"4!"

And Joey leaned down to meet him.

3!"

Their eyes were both falling shut together.

"2!"

And Joey could feel foreign breath falling against his lips.

**_"1!"_ **

-

"I couldn't even hear them say 'Happy New Year,' " Joey chuckled softly towards the recorder, "I had forgotten that's what the party was even for. And that kiss was..." there was a long pause, "Sure, I've met women and men throughout the years who were far more attractive and far better at kissing, but... that one felt..."

Joey took another long pause. He searched his mind, his vocabulary, and his experience, but he could not find a way to express how that kiss felt.

Instead, he took a long drag from his cigar before he continued, "I never learned his name, though. Barely remember what he looked like. He had to go back to the party, and I tried to find him afterwards, but... he was gone. A fleeting memory, a dream, slipping through my fingers..."

Joey's fingers curled as if sand was falling through them.

"... sometimes it's hard to push past these old regrets."

Then, Joey smacked the "STOP" button on the recorder.

"But that's why I don't got 'em anymore!" he laughed as he took the recorder and stuffed it back into his desk, "That's enough talkin to yourself, Drew! These people are in the past. We gotta get back to work!"


	2. First Contact: What Could Go Wrong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a park designer has been chosen for Joey's secret project: Bendyland! Certainly the first contact with this mysterious designer will go well. Because if anything happens to Joey Drew, it always goes well.

"Sir?"

Joey gazed up from his fifth cup of coffee to see Mrs. Rodriguez standing in the door. She had a tall stack of papers in her hand, but these looked far more official than typical studio work. They were held together by beautifully bound leather folders, and they held a weight to them that she was obviously struggling with as her legs shook beneath her skirt.

"Oh!" Joey set his coffee down before springing up to go help her, "And what are these?"

"The... "project," she gave an awkward wink as Joey took the stack from her.

Joey searched through his mind, trying to find the proper "project" she spoke of. His eyes narrowed.

"... oh!" he felt as if he had just woken up, "Right! So we hired someone?!"

"Yes sir," the woman smirked, "His name is Piedmont, and Turner was so excited about hiring him that he let me peak at the drawings, too."

"And what do you think?" Joey grinned with excitement.

"I think he's got the right guy," she nodded, her black curls bouncing, "He's got some ideas I ain't seen in another park."

Joey sat the stack down on his desk, selected a random bound folder, and opened it up.

... His eyes narrowed. He tried flicking through the documents, but when he was met with nothing but schematics and technical jargon, he tried reading the first page.

"Well?"

He glanced up to Mrs. Rodriguez.

"What do ya think?" she asked.

"I think I'll need to make some revisions," Joey nodded, "But I think Turner's right. I see some real potential here!"

"Wonderful," she flashed a smile before heading out, "Can't wait to see what ya come up with!"

Her heels clicked back towards the elevator, and Joey scowled at the folder before him.

“I can’t either,” Joey grumbled.

He then slowly stalked back around his desk as he tried to decipher what he was reading. He knew some of the words! Like "cantilever," "spinning," "gear," .... "wrench." But he didn't know what "tensile strength" was, or what "torque" was supposed to mean. It didn't help that the script these notes were written in was anywhere between barely legible and complete chicken scratch. What even was a "blimey?" It almost felt as if he was reading Chinese.

Joey finally sat down, placed the folder on his hard oak desk, and took his coffee back into his hands.

"Revisions," he muttered to himself.

He then took a long sip.

Well, by all technicalities, it wasn't his job to understand this engineering bullshit! His job was to determine whether he found what he saw fit or not, and to do that he decided that looking at the pictures would be much easier. Thus, he started searching through the folders, bookmarking every image he found with a scrap from his notepad. Fortunately, there were a lot of pictures, and each one seemed to tell it's own story. Trains, rides, concession stands and mascots! This Piedmont guy had gone to great lengths to give a very clear image of this park, and based on the signatures at the bottom of each of these sketches, they were all drawn by Piedmont's own hand. Joey couldn't help but appreciate another man who was hands-on with his work. And he wasn't a bad artist, either. Although the sketches were rough, they had an elegant finesse to them, the kind of style only an old, trained hand could produce.

Joey once again nodded in approval as he finished sectioning out all of the drawings. Turner had done a splendid job in choosing their park designer.

"Revisions!" he told himself again.

And with that, he went through and added thoughtful commentary. "Bigger," "dream bigger," "not big enough," and the occasional "dream a little less" were written in the margins of every page, and sometimes a red arrow pointed to the specific piece he was referring to. Once in a while, Joey even felt compelled to put a question mark above some of the daunting vocabulary that he couldn't decipher, but perhaps that was for another time. Or never. Most likely never. He didn't want to look stupid in front of this Piedmont guy, even if they weren't going to meet face to face for a good while.

... why couldn't he meet this Piedmont guy?

Joey flung folders around his office, here and there until he found the proposal introduction. Surely there would be an answer there.

"... England."

Joey stared at the introduction with wide eyes.

"We're working with someone from England?!" Joey asked no one as he fell back in his chair, "How did Turner get a hold of this guy?!"

It was of no real consequence, to be fair. Variety was the spice of life, and background had never been an issue for who Joey hired and worked with.

"Guess we can add "British" to our big list of the studio family!" Joey chuckled to himself as he retrieved the folder he had been notating.

Eventually, he finished all of his notes. He even took the time to flip through each finished folder, as to proudly review his insightful comments. Indeed, with such refined critique, this Piedmont guy would know exactly who he was dealing with! And Joey felt a wonderful satisfaction as he called a gofer to come retrieve said folders and get them ready to send back to Piedmont himself. Joey could feel it. He could feel it in his bones.

This was truly the start of a beautiful working relationship...

... or at least it was supposed to be.

"Sir?"

Three weeks later, Mrs. Rodriguez was standing at Joey's door once more. She held only a large envelope that had obviously gone on an adventure to be here. There was a bit of grime around the edges, and quite a few stamps had been pressed to the front and back.

"Ah?" Joey asked as his secretary came over to him, "And what is that?"

"It's from Piedmont," she handed it to him, "Would you like me to stay?"

Joey reached into his desk to retrieve his letter opener, "Yeah, this probably won't take but a minute."

He easily slid the opener across the top of the envelope and dipped his hand in to pull out its pages. However, his eyes narrowed as he saw the same park sketches - his own commentary and all - back between his fingers. Now, though, they were accompanied by massive, rather aggressive-looking blue question marks. Joey continued to fish for more pages within the envelope, and he found that they came accompanied by a letter.

And the situation drastically, if not instantly, changed when Joey read the word "fuck" among the letter's contents.

"Oh good lord," he mumbled, "Miss?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Cancel my appointments this afternoon."

"Of course, sir. Do you need anything else?"

Joey reached into his desk and pulled out a cigar.

"Light me."

She pulled a lighter from her dress pocket and did as she was asked.

"Thank you, that is all."

And Mrs. Rodriguez once again strolled out.

Joey then went to reading the letter.

_ Mr. Drew; _

_ I must first apologize. I have no idea what any of your notations mean. I have sat up for two nights now, trying to understand what dreaming and my designs have in common, but I've so far found nothing. My designs are not made in some lucid state; they are my active creations! My parks are living, breathing organisms, and I will not have my work reduced to some "dream!" I'm sure you have many dreams for this park, Mr. Drew, as that's where your cartoons come from, but I don't work in that way, and neither does my company. We work in reality. So for the love of fuck, PLEASE write something constructive in my margins, if you must write anything! I am eager to hear your feedback! _

_ And by the way, you're not supposed to write on the proofs! I'm not too upset about it, as this is your first rodeo, but now you know for the future. If you'll notice, every sketch has a number and letter with it, as do their descriptions. Those are reference numbers. Please use them. _

_ And I'm sorry if this comes off as aggressive, Mr. Drew, and I hope that you can change your critiques into something we can both work on, together. Working with a company more focused on imagination is something that really excites me, and I hope that working with a company focused on the real is just as exciting for you. This is just a misstep! We can overcome it. _

_ Thank you and best wishes, _

_ Bertrum Piedmont _

Joey held his cigar dangerously close to the letter, almost prepared to set it on fire, but he stopped himself before he did.

"Imagination? Dreams?!" Joey slammed down the letter as he took a long drag from his cigar, "My job is turning those into a reality, you bastard! I work more with reality than you do! I have characters, stories, locations to show! Even my own machines! And all you do is look at metal and draw pretty pictures?!"

Joey puffed his cigar as he prepared to write his response. He took out his notepad once more, yanked his pen out from its holder, and began writing.

_ Mr. Piedmont; _

"My handwriting is better than yours," Joey mumbled.

_ It seems there's been a massive miscommunication here. My notes are perfectly justified; just dream bigger. Go bigger. Your ideas are fine, but you could make them into something wondrous if you keep pushing the envelope. Some of these designs seem lackluster, especially considering your work, and they could use a lot of improvement in terms of creativity. So get to it! This is why we hired you, after all; you're the most creative in the business! _

Joey had no idea if that's why Turner hired Piedmont, but it sounded good.

_ I expect to see great things from you, Bertie! And I too think this is just a rocky start! Just read better, okay? _

_ Thanks, _

_ Joey Drew _

Joey proudly re-read his letter, but before he sealed it and the sketches into a new envelope, he had an idea. He once again retrieved his red pen, went to where he had written notes, and used a combination of underlines and circles to draw attention to what he had written.

"Perfect."

And he got the letter ready to send once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joey's suffering has finally begun! ... Unfortunately, that means Bertrum's suffering has begun too. Tune in next week for a chapter entirely from Bertrum's perspective!  
> Please leave a kudos if you enjoyed, and a bookmark if you wanna keep up with this romcom!


	3. Bertrum Bites Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertrum Piedmont has had enough of this bullshit.

"Bert."

Bertrum put down the wrench he was using and glanced back. Lacie was striding up to him, holding a large envelope as the hallway's low lighting made her radiate gold. Her overalls were covered in oil, and her work boots left little oil marks across the already dirty floor.

"Why are you delivering my mail?" Bertrum asked, "Are you my secretary now?'

"Shut your trap," she snickered as she handed the envelope to him, "The bastard answered."

"Oh god, don't call him that," Bertrum took the envelope as he repositioned himself.

He pulled his legs out from under him as Lacie took a seat next to him. Neither of them really minded sitting on the dirt-laced floor. After all, they had sat, stood, and waded through much worse.

"But he is a bastard, Bert! I can feel it just lookin at his pen! He's a backstabbin cheapskate, and you should call off this whole thing now! We ain't got too much money in it! Now's the best time!"

Bertrum shook his head, "Lacie, that's ridiculous. We've had difficult, clueless customers before, and we will have them again."

Bertrum stuck his pudgy finger through the envelope and tore it open with a single swipe. A little oil got on the side of said envelope, so he made sure to rub the rest off his hands before reaching in for Joey's reply.

"I was courteous and a little annoyed in my last letter, so he has to have come to his senses."

Lacie shook her head, "Dumb is always dumb."

A small snort escaped Bertrum's nose as he pulled out Joey's letter, "We don't know if he's dumb yet, La..."

Lacie looked up to him.

For a moment they just sat there, in pure silence. Bertrum's eyes were focused and wide as he read his employer's words, and Lacie almost leaned in to catch a glimpse herself. However, with Bertrum's ever increasing brow strain, she guessed that she'd know what the letter said in a few mere moments.

"What the fuck is this?"

"Told ya."

"Did... did he even read what I wrote?"

"I! Told! You!"

"Does this cod know how to READ?"

"I told you he was a dumbass!"

"Lacie, he's acting as if I haven't put work in! As if I haven't had any creativity?! His park has rides that I JUST INVENTED! They're nowhere else!"

"Dump 'im! Dump him, dumb the job, and let's keep workin on Walt's stuff."

Bertrum glared at the letter, "Absolutely fuckin rude son of a WHORE."

"Oh shit," Lacie mumbled.

"You want creativity, you fuckwad?! I will give you your goddamn creativity!"

Bertrum pushed himself up.

"Where ya goin?" Lacie asked.

"I'm going to give this bastard a piece of my mind," Bertrum stormed down the hallway as he tried not to crush the letter in his hands, "He is lucky we aren't on the same continent, or I'd drive straight to the fucker and knock his lights out."

"Oh ho!" Lacie jumped up and chased after him, "We should move you to America at some point!"

"I would rather fight the war then be there," Bertrum muttered.

Lacie cackled, "It's really a nice place! Has to be, or it wouldn't've made me!"

Bertrum's steps lightened for a moment as a small smile played across his thin lips.

"That's true."

They then entered his office, or rather, a small room off in the corner of the otherwise massive engineering plant. It was lined with filing cabinets, and on top of any smooth surface sat a wooden model from a past, current, or future park.

"Okay, here we go, here we fucking go," Bertrum pulled himself into the only large pieces in the room: his desk and chair, "Now, no peaking."

Lacie fell into the chair across from his desk, "Yessir."

"I want you to read it once I'm done."

Lacie chuckled, "Hell yeah."

And Bertrum got to work. With a pen in hand and a piece of paper below him, Bertrum let the floodgates open as he wrote his response to Joey. The impatience, the rage, the condescending attitude, it all flooded on to the page, every word struck across the parchment with the force of a hammer against steel. Another creation, living, breathing, made to illicit a reaction. And Lacie propped her feet up on the front of his desk, eager to read every word.

Finally, Bertrum wrote his signature, his surname almost a slash at the bottom of the page.

"Read it!" he almost commanded as he handed it over, "But not out loud. You already have a cursing reputation, let's not make it worse."

Lacie took the paper from his hands, but not even two sentences in she was already giggling.

"Oh good lord, Bert!"

"Keep reading."

Lacie kept reading, and her giggling evolved into laughing, and her laughing into cackling. She had to wipe tears from her eyes as her eyes fell down the page, and even the signature made her laugh.

"So you want him to fire you?!" she asked.

"If this bastard is as condescending as he sounds, his pride won't let him," Bertrum folded his hands, "After all, I am the best in the business. He should feel honored I was willing to take on "his" park."

Bertrum's lips curled at saying "his."

"Well, that's definitely what ya said here!" she laughed once more as she handed the letter over, "I've never been more excited to get a piece of mail in our lives, Bert."

Bertrum took the letter back and gazed fondly upon it, a big smile stretching across his face.

"Neither have I, Lacie. Neither have I."

And it didn't take the letter too long to reach Joey's desk, either. A hop and a skip over the ocean landed it - along with the rest of the diagrams and sketches - back in Joey Drew Studio's mailbox once more, and Mrs. Rodriguez was surprised to find a normal letter in its typical, small envelope on top of the stack.

"Must not have much to say!" she remarked as she carried the letter and the rest of Joey's mail up to his office.

That day found Joey cheerful. Tom had been through, Joey's other projects were falling into line. Some of the cartoons were actually going to come out on time.It was a lovely day to be in charge of the studio, and Joey was riding that energy.

But then, Mrs. Rodriguez clicked in.

"I have some mail!" she set it all in his inbox, save for one envelope, "And a reply from Mr. Piedmont."

"Perfect!" Joey chirped, taking Bertrum's letter, "Thank you so much, Mrs. Rodriguez!"

"Of course, sir," and she clicked out.

"Let's go ahead and get this out of the way!" Joey said as he once more pulled out his letter opener.

However, once his eyes fell on Piedmont's letter, his smile dropped.

_ Mr. Drew; _

_ I have come to realize you may be illiterate, which is rather impressive considering you built your own company, so I hope whoever reads this for you is loud and concise with my words, as you must hede them with care. _

_ No. Your notes are not justified.I can't tell a single damn thing you want from me from two-to-three word responses, and how on earth your business runs on the advice of a five year old, I will never know. _

_ And "keep pushing the envelope?" Says the man whose business is riding on the coattails of the animation companies that created your machines. The only thing that is keeping your company from drowning is very good character design. That I will admit: Bendy and his friends are all very good designs. But that is the only strength you have. _

_ I will have you know I've been in this business for 40 years, and the schematics I have given you are fresh, unique, and creative. There are rides in those folders that don't exist anywhere else. And it almost seems like you didn't look at them? Did you not? I know you didn't read the detailing for my sketches, because there's no commentary there. _

_ You are fortunate to have me. And you are lucky I am willing to look past this absolute ignorance in favor of creating this park. Because I have people telling me to abandon this project, but I'd much rather ride it out, as the characters and people deserve to see my masterpiece come to life. So no. I won't change anything. And I expect a full-fledged apology in your next letter. _

_ Tread lightly, _

_ Bertrum "Not Bertie" Piedmont _

Joey gently sat the letter down on his desk. He even pressed it down to the mat with his hands, making sure it was straight and neat against the wood. He then pulled his hands back, and gazed at the words that this Piedmont guy dared to throw at him.

"So!" Joey took a massive puff from his cigar, "This is how it's going to be, huh? I see. ... Well. I'm going to ABSOLUTELY MURDER YOU, YOU RUDE, INCOMPETENT, SON OF A BITCH."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for the read! If you liked this chapter and reading Bertrum rip Joey a new one, please leave a kudos and a comment! Interactions like that mean the world to me, and they keep me writing!
> 
> See you guys next Tuesday~


	4. Capital Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey and Bertrum toss letters back and forth in a dick measuring contest that no one will win.

_ Bertie; _

_ First of all, you absolute bastard, I can read. I can fucking read, and I cannot believe you'd accuse me of being illiterate! I did hire you. Do you remember that? You may be the best in the business, but I can fire you if I so desire. You, sir, are fortunate enough that I value quality over quantity, or this letter would be a rejection and firing for you. _

_ If you want more thorough commentary on what I don't like about your designs, I have given it to you. In pages. Many of them. I have picked apart every drawing you've made in these damned folders, to the point I've stayed at my office well past midnight. You had better be fucking happy. Because my administrative team is furious, and the amount of meetings I've had to reschedule is atrocious. _

_ However; about the writing on your proofs. For that, I do apologize. You were correct in me not knowing where to write. But besides that, you deserve no other apologies, especially with that attitude. I've never had someone be so scathing towards me for simple mistakes! I hope not to see it again in the future. _

_ Regards, _

_ Joey Drew _

_ Drew; _

_ You scold me as if I'm your disappointment of a son? Listen here and listen clearly: you may pay me, Mr. Drew, but you don't own me. I work for you, but as your equal at the very least. I have just as much experience and work as you, and my participation in this project is equal to yours. We are both CEOs, unless you forgot, and I expect more respect for my work. _

_ But holy mother of god thank you. You think your mountains of pages are an inconvenience, but this is actually exactly what I wanted. This kind of thorough commentary is the backbone of a great project, and I'm actually able to create now that I know more of your intentions... _

_... However. I am even more confused now than I was before. _

_ You are asking for definitions, which is perfectly normal. This isn't your business, and you're not an engineer, but you're asking questions I don't even understand. You're trying to replace joints where there are none. Fueling concession stands? You don't need fuel for concession stands. I just do not get it. Just as you did with my proofs, I have commentated your commentary, but I must say reading the notes that have nothing to do with the definitions has definitely proven how little of an idea you have about my work. I have included a document with this letter that lists the definitions you require, and I hope that helps. As for your other questions, they are included after, but many of them are just me wondering how clueless you truly are. _

_ Stop calling me Bertie, _

_ Bertrum Piedmont _

_ Bertie; _

_ I am glad to see you acknowledging that this is, indeed, not my business. These definitions have actually been very useful, and now I understand more of what you're showing me in these complicated pictures. Thank you. Truly. _

_ But. _

_ I am trying my DAMNED BEST HERE. And you keep beating me down! Clueless?! Says a man that despite being creative is incapable of interpretation! If you understood that, we wouldn't be in this situation! Now I've had to interrupt my own production line just to make sure yours is up to my standard! I originally presented more vague concepts so that you'd have creative freedom! I always do that with creatives, because we are all unique, and I want to see your work! But now that's tainted, and we have all these papers and no ideas! _

_ When am I getting some concrete ideas, made from our minds coming together?! _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Joey Drew _

_ Drew; _

_ You're welcome. I'm glad I could help. _

_ Otherwise? STOP CALLING ME BERTIE. And there should be some new drafts coming with this letter that are based on our conversations, as well as my original ideas. Tell me what you think in a non-vague, concise, and forward manner. I even included more definitions so you know what I'm saying. _

_ Thank you, _

_ Bertrum Piedmont _

_ Bertie; _

_... I never recieved the new ideas. I think they got lost in the mail. Please send them again. _

_ Thanks, _

_ Joey Drew _

_ Drew, stop calling me Bertie; _

_ I've sent them with this. Even added a few more definitions, just in case. Stop calling me Bertie, and please give me some honest, concise feedback. _

_ Thank you, _

_ Bertrum Piedmont _

_ Ps. Stop calling me Bertie _

_ Bertie; _

_ I have them now, thank God, and these changes are looking better so far. However! I have included a list of notes with changes, ideas, and maybe even some new additions that I think will improve the park ten fold. Fit them in where you can, will you? _

_ I also have a request: can you make a tiny, metal Bendy for my desk? I had my accountant work out the price for such a thing, and the money should be in this envelope. All my metalworkers are too busy. _

_ Thank you, _

_ Joey Drew _

_ Ps. No. _

_ Drew; _

_ I will give you this: you were right about the Bendy mascot costumes. They do look terrifying. However, I'm not sure I can make a better version at the moment, as that's the most economic way to let the people wearing the costumes see out of them. I have included more commentary on that and your other concerns in my notes.  _

_ But Joey. We cannot have a 100 foot tall Bendy looming over the park. I had to convert meters to feet just to make sure you were insane. The ferris wheel must be the tallest thing in the park, and I develop more on why that must be in my notes. I'm also very against having a bar. Patrons will throw up even more from the rides, and more importantly could die from impaired judgement. I have enough blood on my hands, and I dont need stupid decisions adding to that. _

_ I will give you that small Bendy for your desk though, even if that's a very strange request. You paid me. He should be in a box attached with this letter. _

_ Confused regards, _

_ I AM NOT BERTIE _

_ Man Who Is Most Certainly Bertie; _

_ Bendy is perfect. He is the best addition I've had to my desk in a long time. _

_ And Bendyzilla - which is his name, that you forgot - is NOT ridiculous! He would be perfect, and fit the theme of the park! I read your comments on the ferris wheel, but what if Bendy was at the outskirts of the park? So that you don't have to see him, but he was still there? We could even put rooms inside of him! Like a hotel! I think you are making a terrible mistake by not taking my genius idea. _

_... but I'll give you the bar thing. That was a bad idea. _

_ But, why is there a decapitated head at the center of the tilt a whirl? It's one of the sketches you sent, and to be quite frank I'm very uncomfortable looking at it. Do you see my characters as macabre? I think they're adorable and child-friendly, and if you didn't know, a decapitated head and those damned costumes are not child-friendly. _

_ Warm regards, _

_ Joey Drew _

_ Drew; _

_ First of all, terribly sorry about that head inside of the tilt a whirl. That was not meant to be sent with your sketches. Its not for your park. My apologies. _

_ Second of all, I'm glad you like Bendy. _

_ Third and perhaps most importantly, I am tired. I am tired and worn of writing these letters.Thus, my plane leaves at the end of the month for America. I'm coming, Drew, and I have my ideas with me. We are going to settle this, once and for all, so that we can finally start building this damned park. _

_ And you had better stop calling me Bertie. _

_ Regards, _

_ Bertrum Piedmont _

Joey gazed at the letter, his eyes wide. He then read the last paragraph out loud to himself, just to assure that he had read it right. There was something surreal about Bertrum Piedmont being a real person, and Joey couldn't help but tense up at the very thought of meeting him. A few months of back and forth bullshit was not a good foundation to begin an in-person partnership. And Bertrum was coming all the way from  _ England  _ for this.

However, Joey couldn't deny that he was curious about Bertrum. Some weirdo was out there, designing parks for a living, so Joey tried to picture him in his head. Give a face to the name, to perhaps relieve the stress..

Short. Definitely short. A short and thin man with wild hair and clean suits. Probably has high cheek bones. Green eyes. Absolutely. Maybe erratic? Definitely erratic. Doesn't give off friendly vibes, just a biting small British man. Like a British chihuahua!

Joey chuckled. Fortunately, the mental image of a biting British chihuahua had grounded him, and he sighed in content.

"I had better make space for him, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very glad to have support on this fic! I started by writing it for myself, but I'm glad there are a few Joetrum shippers out there to enjoy this with me. I'll keep writing! Just for us!


	5. Bertrum Piedmont: 2:00pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally meet in person! Finally!

The new name on Joey's scheduling board brought a lot of wandering eyes towards the front of administration: "Bertrum Piedmont." His name was on the board for that day, at 2:00pm, but no one knew who he was or why he was coming. No one asked, as no one should ever ask, but a few whispers did sit on the tongues of those that worked around administration as they waited for his arrival. Glances even began flying back towards the front door about an hour before the scheduled time.

Meanwhile, Joey was trying his best to make his office presentable. Something about his relationship with Piedmont made him worry about his appearance, so he organized his cabinets, stuffed away useless papers, and had Wally clean the desk, cabinets, chairs, and floor.

"Good luck taday, Mistah Drew!" Wally called as he left.

"Thank you, thank you," Joey waved him off without a second thought.

He then rushed over, pulled out the small Bendy statue from his desk, and placed it back in front of his lamp. He couldn't risk Wally knocking it over or stealing it. Who knows what that janitor could have done?!

"There," Joey glanced around, "It's perfect. It's all perfect."

But a new voice interrupted him, "Good."

Joey whirled around to see Mrs. Rodriguez standing at his door.

"Because he's here," she declared.

Joey let out a deep sigh, pushed back his platinum blonde hair, and nodded.

"Let's go greet him!" and he even flashed that charming smile.

Hopefully Bertrum would at least find that smile interesting.

Joey and his secretary then walked out, stepped into the elevator, and Joey clicked the button for the ground floor. They then fell into a graceful descent, down towards the mythical Bertrum Piedmont. Although Joey wore his signature smile, and his posture was calm and inviting, his heart was pounding just a bit faster than normal. He also felt his eyes flicking around a little more than usual, as if trying to catch someone sneaking up on him without turning his head.

_ Calm down Joey,  _ he told himself,  _ It's just a guy. A guy with his own business that does his own dance. There is nothing to worry about. _

And his nerves seemed to settle.

As the elevator touched the bottom floor, Mrs. Rodriguez pointed in towards the waiting room.

"There he is."

Joey followed her finger with his eyes, but the second he focused on his target, his heart stopped. Those nerves? They were back, and higher than ever.

"That's... Him?" Joey asked.

"Yes, sir. That's him," Mrs. Rodriguez nodded.

He glanced over to her, "Are you sure?!"

"I'm sure!" she nodded again, "Massive, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Joey gazed back, "He is definitely massive."

Indeed, Bertrum Piedmont was built like an Olympic weightlifter. Although his suit was perfectly tailored, his muscles still pushed against the arms and waist of his coat. His hands were huge, big enough to wrap around the neck of most of Joey's employees, and his face was somehow elegant while still having a jaw that could bite through a cinderblock. His muted red hair was swept back from his striking features, and he had an anchor beard to match.

Joey himself suddenly felt like a scrawny, blonde haired, blue-eyed child by just looking at him. Well, he wasn't scrawny. He had a bit of tummy that came out over his pants, but his suits were tailored to hide his weight. His hair was perfectly styled into an executive contour, and his short boxed beard was perfectly trimmed. He almost had a baby face, but his features were just mature enough to make him look professional.

"Okay!" Joey took a deep breath, "Time to welcome the newest member of the Joey Drew Studios family!"

He then strolled in with his trademark confidence. He could feel the entire office staring at him, but that didn't bother him as much as the man he was approaching. It felt like he was going to go climb a mountain, except that mountain was a man, and that man could fall on him and crush him from his weight alone. Joey couldn't even tell how tall he was.

But he couldn't stop himself, even if he wanted to. He had to greet him properly.

"Welcome to America, Bertie!"

Two bright green eyes snapped up to meet Joey's, and, despite them being full of rage, a different wave of emotion smashed into Joey's chest.

His heart couldn't connect to the feeling, let alone explore it, but somehow those green eyes set Joey's heart aflutter. There was something very alluring about them, something downright seductive, yet Joey wasn't sure why he found them so attractive. He would have just kept staring at them too, had the man that owned said eyes not spoken.

"My name is Bertrum, Drew," he scowled.

"Bertrum, Bertie, same thing!" Joey smirked.

Then, Bertrum stood up, and Joey was more than relieved to see that they could meet eye-to-eye. They were the same height! However, that relief instantly disappeared as his peripheral vision caught Bertrum's full figure.

"Damn," Joey whispered.

"What?" Bertrum growled.

But the growl pulled Joey out of his haze, "It's just wonderful to finally meet you, Piedmont! After all the arguing we've been through, it's nice to meet!"

Bertrum seemed to soften slightly, "Yes, it is nice to finally meet you in person. I have a feeling things will become more... Productive now."

"As do I!" Joey chirped.

Bertrum stuck out his hand for a shake, and Joey almost took it immediately, surprised by how soft the hair on Bertrum's hand was as they shook.

"Come!" Joey didn't let go of Bertrum's hand as his open arm wrapped around Bertrum's shoulders, "To my office!"

"Just a moment."

Bertrum let go of Joey's hand and removed Joey's arm from his shoulders before reaching down for his briefcase. It was rather large, dark leather, and - by the sounds it made as Bertrum picked it up - full of papers and folders.

"Alright."

Joey immediately locked his arm back around him, "Excellent!"

And they set off towards the elevator.

"I can't believe it! Bertrum Piedmont, in the flesh," Joey chuckled.

"And Joey Drew, the thorn in my side. Real," Bertrum muttered.

"Now now, Bertie, come on! I want this partnership to soften from here, for us to calm down! Don't you want more streamlined communication?"

Bertrum sighed, but he didn't respond. In fact, he didn't say another word until they got into the elevator, and Joey pushed the button for their floor.

Bertrum pushed Joey's arm off his shoulder again, "I want you to cut the crap, Drew."

Joey scowled, "Cut what crap?!"

Bertrum grimaced, "The peppy attitude, the fake smiles! You're the same idiot who marked up my work with false commentary in the first place, trying to seem smart and worldly, and the man I'm meeting right now is not the same person."

Joey gasped, "Its not fake, Bertie! My positivity and smiles are just as real as you and I! I just know my employees feel better when their boss is happy, so I always try to play up my positive attitude, even if I'm not in the best mood!"

"So it is crap!" Bertrum accused.

"No!" Joey put his hand up to his own chest, "I'm actually very happy to meet you! Spruced up the office and everything in anticipation of your arrival! I cannot believe you'd be as callous as accusing me of pretending! Wouldn't you prefer to have someone that wants to work with you?!"

And the elevator stopped. It opened to Joey's office floor.

"Yes," Bertrum muttered.

"Listen, Bertie," Joey wrapped his arm back around Bertrum's shoulders as they stepped off the elevator, "I, too, am very nervous. Our relationship started on some very hostile notes, and I'll admit, I only fueled the flames! But now? We are here, together, and we can right those hostilities and make this park really special! A masterpiece of entertainment, connected to a masterpiece of animation!"

As they moved into Joey's office, Joey stepped in front of Bertrum and took his shoulders.

"Now wouldn't that be something?" Joey smiled as sincerely as he could.

That trademark smile. It always worked.

Bertrum sighed, and relief sagged his shoulders, "That's all I wanted from the start."

Joey threw his arms out with an even bigger grin, "And that's all I wanted, too! So let's make it! My dreams, your reality, together!"

Bertrum reflected his smile, and for a moment, Joey's heart skipped a beat. But Joey quickly pushed those emotions aside.

"Though," he smirked, folded his hands behind his back, and strolled towards his office chair, "I'm still going to call you Bertie."

"GOD, WHY?!" Bertrun roared. 

Joey laughed as he fell into his office chair, "BeCAUSE-"

But he fell too hard, and the chair toppled backwards on to the floor with a  _ crack! _ Fortunately, nothing was harmed - including Joey himself - but it took him a second to realize what had happened and why he was suddenly on the floor.

But Bertrum's own laugh bellowed.

He head even peaked over the side of the desk to gaze down at Joey, "Very smooth, Mr. Drew."

"FUCK."

Bertrum laughed harder.

"I could've died!" Joey pulled himself back up, and he reached back for the chair...

... but Bertrum was already pulling it up for him.

"Let's hope the rest of this meeting doesn't follow your chair."

Joey met Bertrum's gaze and sighed in relief, "We can always hope!"

And they started talking. And talking. And talking. They worked for so long that every other meeting Joey had that afternoon had to be canceled. Suit jackets came off, desks and chairs moved, and a long string of smoke steadily billowed out from Joey's office window. There were cigar butts everywhere, papers multiplied as they slowly migrated across the office, and even sleeves had to be rolled up as both of the men gesticulated wildly to argue their points. Beer would've been involved too, had Joey not forgotten to restock, and neither man was too keen on going downstairs to get a bottle. Especially Bertrum, because if he left the room, Joey could change something in his absence.

By the time they were done, the sky was black and dotted with brilliant stars. Joey was sweating, and Bertrum's tie was loose around his neck. They both sat atop Joey's desk, staring at the paper between them.

"... we didn't get anywhere," Joey mumbled.

"... did you expect the park to be built?" Bertrum mumbled back.

"... I expected... more?!" Joey's arms sort of flailed in a tired gesticulation to the room at large.

"This is wonderful progress," Bertrum tapped a spreadsheet, "You know what this is going to cost now. We have a simulated budget. I can go talk to my people, and you can talk to your people. We can fucking  _ do something." _

"But should we not have done  _ more?!" _

"We've done all we  _ can." _

_ "Fine." _

_ "Ugh, Joseph." _

"My NAME is not JOSEPH."

"If MY NAME to YOU is Bertie, YOUR NAME to ME is Joseph."

_ "Fine, BERTIE." _

"FINE, JOSEPH."

They glared at each other. Their eyes narrowed, their lips in a scowl.

Until Joey snickered.

"You're really bad at this," Bertrum snorted, "Joseph."

"SHUT UP, BERTIE!" Joey laughed.

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving before you devolve into madness," Bertrum snorted again as he stood up.

"Nonono," Joey jumped off the desk, "You're not getting away from me that easily! I'm taking you to dinner."

Bertrum raised an eyebrow, "You are?"

"I am!" Joey went and retrieved his coat, "Leave everything in the office, I'll lock it up. What we are going to do is: I'm taking you to dinner, we are going to eat ourselves into comas, and then I will release you from my presence. To celebrate this terrible afternoon."

Bertrum's eyes narrowed once more, but then a smirk fell across his own lips.

"Gonna poison me?" he asked as he reached for his own coat.

"If I'm lucky!" Joey laughed.

Bertrum laughed with him.

And they walked out of the office, with Joey shutting the door and locking it behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY FINALLY MET IN-PERSON. OHMYGOD. Things are gonna get spicey and confused from here, and it's gonna be great! So tune in next week for their first date! ... I mean their friendly dinner.


	6. The First Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey takes Bertrum out to a "business" dinner, and you may think it's going to go well, but this is Joey Drew we're talking about.

The moon hung over the low lit street, striking it with a white sheen as the bright the stars dimmed around it. Most of the businesses had closed down at this point, save for the few glowing lights from those working overtime. The air was stale, recovering from the busy day, but Joey Drew was not the man to let anyone recover from anything as he power-walked down the sidewalk.

"Joey, why do you run?!" Bertrum almost jogged up to his side.

"I'm not running! I'm walking!" Joey chirped.

"You're moving like the theater next to your studio is on fire!"

"Eh? It's not."

"But your urgency is that heavy!"

"I just have places to be, Bertie!"

"Urgh!"

Nonetheless, Bertrum kept up with his pace as they sped around the corner and down a different avenue.

"Where are we even going?!"

"Sardi's!" Joey sniffed the air, "Have you ever been?"

"No!"

"It's wonderful! There are wonderfully drawn caricatures all over the walls! And the food is delicious!"

"Did one of your artists make the caricatures or something?"

Joey frowned, "No."

"Then the food had better be worth your sprinting!"

"It will be, Bertie-"

"URGH!"

"It wi- HEY!"

Bertrum suddenly charged ahead of him, running down the sidewalk. His large loafers smacked against the cement, as if pushing it down from his steps.

"You don't even know where you're going!" Joey yelled after as he quickened his pace to a jog, "Stop running!"

"I know the name, and you're moving too fast too walk, too slow to run!" Bertrum barked back.

"Ah!" Joey started running.

Bertrum was surprisingly fast for a man built like a brickhouse. Joey pushed himself to catch up with him, running more in those few moments than he had in the past thirty years.

"Too slow Drew!" Bertrum laughed.

Joey almost grimaced, but his anger was shoved aside by a burst of energy. It was something familiar, something old in his heart, and he couldn't help but smile at the sudden rush.

"Get back here!" Joey broke into a sprint.

"NO!" Bertrum yelled back.

Joey swore he heard a laugh, and he grinned as his feet started smacking the pavement. The clapping sound rang through his body, smacking against his ears, but he only smiled more. Every step he just got a smidge closer, as Bertrum was obviously much faster, but Joey didn't mind. He just kept smiling. He even smiled as he watched Bertrum reach the front of Sardi's.

"AHA!" Bertrum skidded to a stop and stretched his back, "Small and slow!"

"Hey!" Joey slowed to a stop as he started to pant, "Unlike some people, I don't have time to exercise!"

Joey leaned over, his hands falling on to his knees for support as he tried to catch his breath.

"I don't exercise!" Bertrum laughed, "It just happens with my work."

"I'm in animation," Joey looked back up, "Doesn't really happen for me."

Bertrum then flashed a brilliant, crooked smile down at him, and Joey's heart fluttered again. He smiled back, softly, and met Bertrum's eyes. Two green lightning bugs, they glowed with the fiery spirit that powered Bertrum's spirit.

But a voice cut through, "Mister Drew?"

Joey caught himself staring and glanced over.

"Your usual table?' the greeter asked.

"Uh."

Joey stammered, standing up and fixing his suit before putting his signature smile back on. Hopefully the waiter hadn't seen how out of shape he was.

"Yes! Of course!" he chirped.

"Right this way!"

As both of the men followed after the waiter, Joey couldn't help but glare at Bertrum.

"Don't take off like that!" Joey whispered.

"Afraid I'll beat you again?" Bertrum replied, his smirk bleeding through his words.

"No!" Joey's lips curled, "I don't want you embarrassing me!"

Bertrum blinked in surprise, but then rolled his eyes, "No one saw you huffing and puffing, you nitwit."

"Nitwit?!" Joey glanced around nervously, "Do you realize who's here?"

Bertrum frowned, "Who?"

"Stars!" Joey quietly spat, "Broadway stars, singers, performers, some of the best in entertainment, and I will not have you using such language against me while around them!"

"Wow," Bertrum chuckled, but his tone wasn't exactly cheery, "Well, alright!"

As the two sat down at their table, the dark crimson walls descended down upon them. Bertrum leaned his head into his hand at the now stilted silence, and he drummed his fingers on the table. But it seems he wouldn't let Joey's attitude ruin the dinner, as Joey saw those green orbs flip up to the wall.

"So. Who draws these caricatures?' Bertrum asked.

"Alex Gard," Joey smiled to himself as he too gazed up at the pictures, "Very fun man to be around. A dreamer if I've ever seen one."

"You have an... obsession with dreams," Bertrum muttered as a waiter in a red jacket approached the table.

"Drinks, gentlemen?"

Joey's head gently rolled over to meet the waiter's gaze.

"Get me an old-fashioned, and for my-"

"A commando for me, please."

Joey's eyes shot over to Bertrum. The waiter then swooped off from beside them, probably wanting to get away as fast as possible after feeling the wave of tension radiating from the table.

"Did you interrupt me?" Joey asked.

Bertrum looked up from his menu, "Did I? If I did, I'm incredibly sorry."

"I was speaking, and I wa-"

"I'm just not used to being taken out to dinner like a  _ child,"  _ Bertrum snarled, placing his menu on the table, "I'm your business partner, not some poor employee you keep locked up in the depths of your studio."

Daggers struck straight through Joey's chest.

"Excuse me?" he whispered.

"I bet you bring your employees here to wow them, don't you? Get the gravity of how rich and great you are for taking them out?" Bertrum's smirk turned up in a way that was almost devilish, "Pathetic."

"I bring my employees here to understand how well they are paid! To see how good life can be when they follow their dreams!" Joey leaned forward, "Do  _ you  _ do anything like that, Mister Piedmont? Do you inspire your employees?'

"I wouldn't say I inspire them,," Bertrum folded his hands on the table, "But I do try to take care of them best I can. Because every day they're working with sheets of metal that could eviscerate them, and flames that could cook them alive. So, no, I don't take them to fancy restaurants and tell them to dream. But do you know what I actually do?"

Joey blinked, and this time it was Bertrum's turn to lean across the table, forcing Joey back into his seat.

Bertrum continued,  _ " _ I give them bonuses, insurances, the latest tools and technology so that their jobs are as safe as I can make them. I give them training when they come across something new, I get down in the grime when something isn't working, I light the torch when they drop it. I guarantee their safety, and I guarantee their jobs, because my employees are my damn backbone, Mr. Drew. They fuel my machines just as they fuel me, so I make sure they're alive and well to do so. I even take them out for drinks, just for surviving! And  _ that. That is what I do for them." _

Joey's brow creased. He tried to comprehend the large amount of information that had just been thrust upon him, but all he could do was narrow his eyes, hoping that would symbolically help him narrow in on a response. Finally, a single thought came to his head.

"There's no conceivable way Piedmont Industries could have that much money in it," Joey mumbled, "You're just... Making theme parks."

Bertrum leaned back begrudgingly, "Well. It helps I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth."

Joey fidgeted. It was one thing to be going toe-to-toe with a mountain of a man that was at the same economic level, but this? A silver spoon and spoiling his employees? Surely not.

"You only pay for your managers' bonuses, right?"

"No."

"Your higher-ranking employees?"

"No!"

"Your average employees?"

"I pay for them all when I can. It's an equal situation."

"That much money?"

"Yes."

"Your drinks!"

The waiter had returned, and he set down both their glasses with ease.

"Thank you," only Bertrum said.

But one question hit Joey's head that he had to ask.

"Then... why... theme parks?"

Bertrum perked up, "Huh?"

"If you have enough money to buy all these things and even drink with all these employees of yours..." Joey's brow was now strained, "Why build  _ theme parks?" _

The frustration seemed to fall from Bertrum's shoulders as he smiled slightly.

"I love them," his eyes sparkled once more, "I've loved them since I was a lad. I made my mother take me to every theme park across Europe because I was a little shit and loved them so much, but because she couldn't just  _ have fun,  _ she explained to me how the parks worked and why they were so lucrative. So I took her words, and made a career out of them."

Joey grimaced, "Must be nice to have that lack of care when it comes to your occupation. My company was shit when I first started it. But you could buy and hire whatever and whoever you wanted."

Bertrum seemed to ignore the jabs at his monetary privilege, "Yup. Why animation, then?"

Joey blinked, "What?"

"Why choose animation if you didn't have the money to back it?"

"Because animation is the only medium where the craziest things can come to life," Joey replied, "Didn't have them growing up, but as I got older, I got more and more excited to go to the pictures and see them. Crazy talking animals and smiling pianos. I wanted to do that."

"Can you animate?"

Joey rolled his eyes, "Of course I can. Not like my staff can, but I did very rough animations when the studio started."

Bertrum nodded and took the first sip of his Commando, "Damn."

"Damn?"

"That's the best drink I've ever had."

Joey chuckled uncomfortably before he took a refreshing gulp of his own drink,"I told you, this is one of the best places in New York!"

The rest of the dinner was cordial at best, and awkwardly quiet at worst. Fortunately, Bertrum had no idea what to order, so Joey forcing him to enjoy a steak with him wasn't a bother. Bertrum even enjoyed his. Small talk flew across the table from time to time, trying to keep up some air of civility, but the uncomfortable air between them had become hard to ignore. Especially as Joey kept gazing at Bertrum.

Bertrum Piedmont: a British billionaire that made theme parks for a living and challenged his clients to foot races. Joey wanted to hate him. Old money, cocky attitude, rampant philanthropy, and the permanent winner of any dick-measuring contest; Bertrum was everything Joey wanted to be. Yet he seemed to be the opposite of what Joey had come to know from that social class, and that left him undeniably curious. Was Bertrum telling the truth? That much money and fame was never made by being sweet. There had to be a skeleton in the Piedmont closet, and Joey wanted to find it.

He needed to know more.

And those green eyes pulled him in further and further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh finally, I'm getting into the romance~ or a bit of it. More romance and drama coming your way, every Tuesday!!


	7. But What If It Fails?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertrum and Lacie spend an afternoon together in New York City.

The crashes and clackering of the fast food joint were oddly comforting to Bertrum. It was as if he was sitting in a whirlwind of plates and utensils, and every few minutes they'd clatter just a bit louder before simmering back to a murmur of background buzz. It almost felt like a pub back in London, save for his accountant Harshman wasn't cackling from the bar. 

"The meal with Drew wasn't the worst meal of my life," Bertrum grimaced.

"You have definitely had worse!"

"But I still hated it."

"Sounds like it."

"You can imagine my relief when he didn't offer to guide me around New York City."

Lacie sighed, "Yeah, I'm sure. We've had a much better time today, huh?"

"Yes," Bertrum nodded, "Much better. But... I still can't believe how unpleasant of a man he is."

_ "Then cut off the deal." _

"Lacie. We are in America. We have moved the entire team here. I cannot cut off the deal," Bertrum sipped his milkshake, "And frankly I don't want-"

His nose scrunched up as he stared down at his milkshake.

"This is disgusting."

Lacie snorted, "You ordered it."

"It doesn't even taste like a strawberry!"

"Anyway, why not cut it off?!" Lacie leaned her head against her hand, "I get that we'll suffer a blow to finances, but that would be better than dealin' with this Drew clown."

Bertrum shook his head, "The potential Bendyland has cannot be ignored. This could bring us everything we ever wanted: a massive park with innovative attractions, awards unlike any park designer has ever seen, AND a huge stack of cash! This could boost Piedmont Industries far beyond any of our competitors!"

"But what if it fails?" Lacie grimaced, and her anxious shuffling scraped against the red leather booth, "Bertrum, you're too old to take this kinda risk. You're gettin senile."

"Then at least I can get to make the park I want. Even if it fails."

Lacie's eyes flicked up and met his gaze. The fire behind those green apple eyes was adamant.

"You really like this park, dontcha?"

"I do," Bertrum nodded, "The designs I made for this are the pinnacle of my 40 years of work. They're unlike anything I've ever made before. And they're gonna push our boys and girls harder than they've ever been pushed! But Lacie. If we can at  _ least _ get this park built, then I will feel nothing short of success, as if those 40 years have culminated... into my magnum opus."

Lacie sat up, bolt straight, "Oh."

"Yes."

She leaned forward, "So this is it?"

"Indeed," Bertrum leaned back in his booth, locking his arms across his chest, "This is the last park."

Just then, their waitress strolled up to the table, her eyes drooping with lack of interest as she set down their check, "Have a nice day."

"Thank you," Bertrum smiled up to her, "You too."

She met his gaze and smiled a bit. She then sort of stammered away, as if being pulled from her own depressed daze confused her.

"I told you to stop that."

Bertrum looked over, "Hm? What Lace?"

Lacie smirked, "When you smile at pretty girls like that, they think you're flirtin."

"Its called being polite!" Bertrum pulled out his checkbook, "Some of us aren't looking at the women because they're pretty! In fact, that's only you."

"Right. You were lookin at the manager that came thro-"

"Shush!" Bertrum waved his hand at her before putting their payment on the table, "I'm a grown ass adult, I can look at other grown ass adults!"

"Oh you were lookin at a-"

_ "Come along, Lacie Benton." _

Bertrum pulled her out of the booth, but they both walked out of the diner chuckling together.

The sun was peeking out from the clouds that day, casting a glow across New York City. The chatter was loud, the traffic was louder, and the air felt as if you had been trapped in a bank vault for an entire night. Needless to say, Bertrum was not impressed, and he judged every man and woman that walked by him. His impressive size made those judgements very obvious, and any of the poor people that met his gaze averted their eyes.

"You're really making this park the last?" Lacie asked as they started down the street.

"I sure am," Bertrum adjusted his suspenders, "I want to bow out while I'm still fit. While I can still be hands-on. To grow old on the job and only sketch would be a depressing way to die."

"Well, damn!" Lacie snorted as she stuck her hands into her pockets, "When ya put it like that, I guess you gotta point! I wouldn't wanna be some sad sack behind a desk, sketchin away while a buncha dumbos make my stuff."

"Precisely."

There was a pause between them.

"Sounds like Joey," Bertrum realized.

Lacie cackled, "Ya know, at least I'm gonna get to listen to you rip into this guy! That's a positive to all this."

"He's an absolute manchild, I cannot believe," Bertrum shook his head.

"And you're gonna trust this guy to be part of your magnum opus?"

"I must," Bertrum shrugged, "And it's not really him that I'm trusting."

Lacie's eyes narrowed, "Then who?"

Just then, the pair came upon a nickelodeon, and Bertrum pointed to one of the posters with his large, pudgy finger.

"This little guy."

At the end of his finger was none other than Bendy the Dancing Demon. The little devil darling was running across steel beams in an adorable set of overalls, and from the other side of the poster, Boris the Wolf stared at him with great skepticism.

"That's the cutest little shit I've ever seen," Lacie blinked in surprise.

"Superb, isn't he?" Bertrum folded his hands behind his back, "We should watch some of his cartoons together. I think you'd like them."

"It would at least help the park," Lacie nodded, "But..."

Bertrum glanced down to her when she didn't finish her sentence.

"... do you think Joey made 'em?"

"The characters?" Bertrum snorted, "No. Not at all. I don't know who did, but I get the distinct feeling that it wasn't Joey."

"Hm," Lacie trotted on, "I think you’re right!"

It only took Bertrum a step to catch up with her. And as they continued down the street, their conversation got lost in the bustle of New York, just another supposed success story forming in the Big Apple.

The rest of the day was rather cordial. Bertrum took time to learn about the city he had temporarily moved in to. He found pizza shops, parlors, gas stations. He even found a smoke shop that sold good cigars, along with matching whiskey. Lacie got her own cigarettes and ale to go with as they continued surveying the city and finding all the hot spots. They even found a small bar outside Joey Drew Studios, but Bertrum did not dare to enter. He had seen a few of the JDS employees go in, and if Joey was there, Bertrum would rather be one-hundred feet away...

... or would he?

As he said goodbye to Lacie and made his way down the sidewalk, Bertrum thought back a few nights ago, to his time with Joey. Cigar smoke and dejected laughter filled his mind as he recalled their struggles in Joey's office, and rapturous laughter and heavy footfall echoed through his mind at the mere idea of the sidewalk. Every other second spent with Joey Drew had been nothing but hellish torture, but those few hours where it had been just them, working and teasing without the interference of the outside world, felt... different. There was something special about it all. Usually Bertrum couldn't pick on his employees as he did with Joey, let alone have them start the teasing. It was a very different working relationship, and when it was just the two of them together, it almost felt... good. Right.

Bertrum internally smacked himself for feeling that way, but he couldn't deny how elated he felt when he called Joey "Joseph" after being referred to as "Bertie" for so long. Even if he hated that nickname, it at least brought along some fun jests. He felt even better when he powered past Joey, running down the sidewalk and forcing the blonde prude to sprint after him. Bertrum remembered how surprised he was that Joey ran after him. And how pleasantly surprised he was when Joey was smiling as he ran. It was all very confusing, as if he was working for two different Drews. 

One Joey was a conceited asshole who would pretend to be smart just to get by. He was manipulative and aggressive, only wanting what was best for him in the short and the long run. The other Joey was honest, cooperative, and even playful at times. He genuinely admitted confusion, and was ready to learn when he needed to as to fix a project. These were two completely different people, two different Drews. Was one an act? Was the other the truth? Or were they both real parts of one complicated man?

"... why the fuck do I care?" Bertrum realized as he stood at his penthouse door.

But he did. He cared much more than he'd ever admit. And his curiosity would not go without answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for reading! Every new view and kudos means the world to me, so even if you found a tiny bit of enjoyment in this fic, please leave it a like! And if you want to follow me, I have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/your_narrator13)! Come join me in my weirdness! Anyway, thanks, and I'll see you next week!


	8. A Watching Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone else has a view of the rising tensions, and Joey keeps pacing the studio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is late, I was so tired last night that I fell asleep and my life is out of control-  
> Please enjoy the chapter!

The creaks and whispers of the studio echoed throughout the long, dark hallways. Spindles of ink-like blackness would stretch out from the areas that maintenance refused to relight, the areas that groaned just a bit differently. The floorboards stretched into nothing, screeches of metal echoed at their own whim, and the very ceiling felt as if it had eyes, following you with every step.

Well, Technically there were eyes, following anyone they could find. Finding, hearing, feeding on their information. Dark brown eyes, framed by an only slightly lighter face as a tall, daunt man stalked the corridors, taking in every part of the studio he could enter without  _ participation.  _ This place was far too chaotic to deserve his face in the spotlight, and no one wanted him there anyway. He was a backstage hand, nothing more than a mere projectionist. And that was what he wanted them all to keep thinking. After all, if some of the directors and managerial staff got wind that he knew of their antics, well... he wouldn't be that mere projectionist anymore.

Norman Polk hated his job. He hated his job, he hated the company, and the only thing that kept him there was how  _ terrible _ some of these people were. Joey Drew was a leech, Sammy Lawrence was a prideful bitch, the animators would steal from the company, and the voice actors ate each other alive if left alone in the recording booths. It was a dog eat dog world in these walls, and Norman reveled in it. He enjoyed seeing them all fight and scream at one another under the guise of some animation studio, and he gladly ate the popcorn as he watched the drama unfold. Or, at least he did, until one fateful morning.

As Norman was making his usual rounds - picking up the talk and gossip - he noticed Drew walking through the animation department. Which was strange, as Drew frequently forgot where that department sat on the third floor. Only a few minutes later, Norman spotted Joey again, this time striding through the post room as if he was blind to the world around him. Joey did this sort of walk cycle through the whole building for about 20 minutes, before returning to his office as if it had never happened.

But Norman was a curious bastard, and thus the next day he watched for Joey. And there he went, walking through the whole building! His pattern may have been different, but his demeanor was the same, detached from reality. This time he got some looks, but nothing too bizarre, and Norman took note of how the time frame for said walk was very similar to the day before. Joey even went and sat in his office in the same exact manner as he had previously!

Norman thought perhaps Joey just needed to stretch his legs, but he just kept doing it. Every. Morning. Some of the staff would try and get his attention as he went by, but Joey would just chug past them like a locomotive with only one track and one destination. Norman thought perhaps he was missing something, or even going crazy, but someone woke him up to the truth of the matter.

"POLK!" a voice squawked.

Norman quietly groaned to himself before turning to face his coworker. Coming down the hall, papers fluttering in his white-knuckled hand, was none other than the prideful bitch himself: Sammy Lawrence.

"What is UP with  _ DREW?!"  _ Sammy waved his documents around as if to flag Norman down.

"I don't know," Norman mumbled.

"WHAT?!"

"I DON'T KNOW," Norman forcibly barked.

"He's walking around like he's possessed!" Sammy walked up and stood by Norman's side, crossing his arms with disappointment, "The one time I wanna talk with the ignorant fuck and he won't even listen."

Norman shrugged, "He's been doing it for a while, you know."

"... Doing what?" Sammy gazed up at him.

"This pacing thing. Every morning."

Sammy blinked, "Really?"

"Yeah," Norman gazed back down the hall, trying to avoid Sammy's stare, "Every morning, around the same time. My theory is he's trying to destress from something."

There was a pause.

"... That makes sense," Sammy nodded.

Norman's words stumbled out of his mouth without warning as he glanced back to Sammy, "Wait, you actually agree with me?"

"Yeah!" Sammy grimaced, "If you're right, you're right! Maybe something like a smoke break. Must be really bad if Drew's showing his stress, though."

"Yeah. It must be."

There was another pause.

"Welp, my disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined," Sammy continued stomping down the hall, "I'll try and catch the bastard next time he comes through, in a hundred-fuckin-years or so..."

Norman watched him go quietly, his eyes glued to Sammy's back. Sure, the music director was absolutely insane, screaming at the top of his lungs and smacking people with sheet music, but once in a while there was a semblance of a man there. A human being, under the neuroticism and rage.

But now wasn't the time for investigating Sammy.  _ Drew was Norman's target. _

Thus, Norman went back to work. Literally. Can't hunt down Drew's secrets if you don't have a job, so Norman took his seat behind the projector once more.

The repeated morning paces continued for another week and a couple of days. Norman couldn't find any useful gossip related to this strange ritual, and instead only found everyone asking the same question as he was: what the hell was up with Drew? The pacing had been going on for a month now. Surely there had to be a reason!

"I'll betcha he's gonna fire us."

"Well, he may fire you," Sammy flicked Jack's hat as he, Jack, and Norman sat around the table in the music department's breakroom, "But I'll still have a job."

Norman smirked, "What if Joey wants to spend less money on a composer?"

Sammy glared at him, and Jack snorted.

"Your job is expendable as Hell!" Sammy barked.

"Yeah, but Joey barely knows I'm here," Norman sipped his coffee, "So how can you fire someone you don't even know?"

Sammy pointed his finger right at Norman's face, ready to give a strong rebuttal, but then his arm flopped on the table in defeat.

Norman and Jack laughed.

"I can't believe you have job security, Polk."

"Hell yeah," Norman sipped once more.

And finally, one fateful Tuesday, Norman got the first piece of this mistifying puzzle. One thing Norman checked every morning was the Administration Office's scheduled meetings, and on this fair morning the name Bertrum Piedmont was written beside a Thomas Connor for 3:00pm that afternoon. Two names that Norman didn't know the connection for. Thus, he simply took note of this oddity and went on to work, but then...

Joey didn't come through pacing. The whole studio noticed, but no one made the connection. Even Sammy and Jack were at a loss, whispering down in the orchestra room before rehearsal.

But Norman thought back to that new name on the meeting board.

"It's him," Norman mumbled to himself, "It's Piedmont. Whatever is making him stressed is connected to this Piedmont fellow."

Norman then stared into the orchestra room, across the empty walls and to the projection screen.

"But who the fuck is Piedmont?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks! For reading! Once again, I am super sorry this is late. I'm actually writing this ahead - like I'm writing chapter 12 write now - so there's less pressure to help me remember to post. But still, I hope you guys enjoyed a new perspective ❤


	9. A Tough Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grant has put his foot down and Joey has to make a choice. They just don't have the money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are gonna start getting longer, because I'm really feeling this now

Joey stood at his window, gazing out on to the city. A large cigar lay between his fingers, as a steady stream of smoke flowed out from its top and floated into the open air of the street.

"And you're sure? You're sure we can't do both?" Joey asked.

On the other side of his desk sat Grant Cohen. The poor man thought himself a mere accountant years ago, but after joining Joey Drew Studios he had become the backbone of the entire agency. And you could tell, as his face had gone numb, his eyes had large black bags pulling them down, and his glasses were always askew upon his thin nose. He always had a cigarette, too; if he didn't, surely someone would die. If this man lived in the modern era, he'd need more than xanax just to deal with Joey alone.

"Yes," Grant spread the ledgers and budgets back across the table, "Do you want me to go through it again?"

Joey took a puff from his cigar, "No. I've heard enough from you."

Grant scowled, "It's not my fault you're spreading the money so thin, Drew! I'm not a fucking magic man!"

"Then how have we made it this far?!" Joey demanded.

"Someone must've sacrificed a baby somewhere!" Grant pulled at his hair, "I don't know! All I know is right now, you have to make a choice. You have to choose between this secret machine thing and this Piedmont thing! And we would probably have more money if you'd tell me! What! Either of these things were!"

"Now is not the time to question me Grant!" Joey snapped.

"Now is a better time than ever to question you!" Grant barked, "You're doing a bunch of shady shit and asking me to make money appear! And I can't do that Joey! I just can't! If we took all the funding from every single department in this damn building we still wouldn't have the funds to do both of these projects! That you STILL WON'T TELL ME ABOUT-"

"LISTEN," Joey pointed at him, "Listen. You can stay for this meeting, okay? Then you can learn what both projects are, and we can move on from there. OKAY?"

"OKAY," Grant pulled at his hair again.

Joey sighed and took another puff from his cigar, "They should be coming up the elevator at any moment. Just stay quiet unless you're referred to, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Grant scrambled to pull all of his papers together, all the while grumbling through the cigarette at the corner of his mouth.

Joey just kept staring out the window. His eyes gazed beyond the midafternoon sun and past the people that strolled across the sidewalks. It gazed past the cars, the heat, the day at large. In his mind, the street was empty, the night was young and nippy, and he was chasing after Bertrum Piedmont. The smiling, the laughing, the slapping of shoes against pavement; it all ran through his mind like a dream, impossible yet oh-so... Sweet?

This was only one of the many scenes that wouldn't leave Joey be. He remembered sitting in his office with Bertrum, he remembered them chatting, laughing, "Joseph," "Bertie." It all felt so comforting in hindsight, and even as Joey stood there, he missed it. He had missed Bertrum for the past month. He spent every morning pacing through the halls of his studio, thinking about the park, about their time together, about Bertrum motherfucking Piedmont.

And Joey took his eyes off the street to glance back to the Bendy statue on his desk.

"Bertie."

"Huh?"

Joey blinked, waking up from his memories.

"Huh?" Grant repeated.

"Cohen," Joey pondered his word choice, "Do you ever have a person that just... Won't leave your mind? Someone that always makes you smile when you think about them?"

"Well, yeah," Grant replied.

"Who? A coworker? A frie-"

"My wife."

Joey froze. He felt an icy chill shoot up his spine.

"... who?"

"My wife? Of twenty years?" Grant shoved his documents into a folder, "She's the gasoline that keeps me trucking."

Joey didn't respond

"Why? Has some dame caught your eye? Is she a movie star?" Grant asked.

Joey's eyes now focused intently on the car across the street from his building, "Uh, I'd prefer not to go into detail."

"I understand," Grant set his folder down.

Joey's brain was now scattered lines of screaming. No. No, that was not what he was feeling, that was absolutely ridiculous. Bertrum was a man, a finely sculpted man, and he was not a woman. His smile was not sweet as a strawberry, his laugh did not sound like church bells, and he was not someone Joey was attracted too.

"Ridiculous," Joey muttered.

"... are you okay?" Grant asked.

Joey sat in his office chair, pouting at the work in his inbox.

"I'm fine," Joey muttered.

"Okay," Grant didn't sound convinced, but he didn't want to push it.

Just then, the rumbling sounds of the elevator tickled at the edges of Joey's ears.

"They're here!" Joey threw aside his scattered brain and previous aggression, "Oh, thank god."

Through his open door, Joey watched as the long cables pulled up the metal box that served as the company's elevator. Standing tall and proud inside of it were two surprisingly buff men that would stand out at any Joey Drew Studios meeting. One of them was Tom, who was fit to fight a bull yet somewhat thinner than Bertrum. What he lacked in girth he made up for in height, towering over Bertrum, yet he showing no intimidating qualities. He wore his usual dirtied suspenders and unkempt shirt, obviously having just come from a job in the depths of the studio.

Bertrum himself had his coat off and his sleeves pulled up, exposing the coarse hair that coated the tops of his arms. He was ready to get down to business, but Joey instead found his eyes lingering a little bit too long on the muscle creases in his arms.

"Fuck," Joey gazed up to meet their faces, "Welcome, gentleman! It's a big day today, huh?"

"I don't even know why I'm here," but Tom didn't sound surprised about it.

"I'm eager to see why you're here," Bertrum snorted.

Tom snorted too, with a soft chuckle.

Joey grimaced, "Close the door behind you."

Tom did so, his expression now weary as the door clicked into place. Bertrum took a seat on the desk, as he had a month ago, leaving Tom to have the only other chair in the office.

"Now," Joey sighed, his head falling into his hands, "We have... a budget problem. Grant, would you care to explain?"

Joey gazed over to Grant, but the accountant just stared at him blankly. Apparently he was going to let Joey sink in this boat all alone, and Joey let out a heavy sigh at his lack of cooperation.

"Thank. You. Grant."

Grant shrugged.

"Okay. I'll explain," Joey looked back to the other two, "Our studio does not have the funds to work both of these projects. So, in order to keep us afloat, we're going to have to put off one of these projects indefinitely, or until we hit a better period monetarily."

"Oh," Tom whispered, still seeming unphased.

"We haven't even started," Bertrum muttered, his eyes growing wide.

"So," Joey took a deep breath, "How about we discuss why we should keep each of these proje-"

"The pipes are everywhere," Tom interjected, "The machine is running. This project cannot be stopped, because it's far beyond started."

"I came to America for your ignorant ass!" Bertrum spat, "Are you telling me I'm going to have to pack up my men and go all the way back to London because I never truly had this job?!"

"That sucks," Tom added.

"THANK YOU!" Bertrum nodded back at Tom, "It does, doesn't it?! If you send me back, you're going to reimburse my travel expenses you fucking TWAT."

"Shit," Grant muttered.

"WHAT?!" Bertrum shouted at him.

Grant shrunk back in his chair as if a bear had roared at him, "We don't have the funds for that either!!"

"Then I'll hold this debt above your heads for the rest of your days!" Bertrum sneered.

As Bertrum continued threatening the studio's financial well being, all Joey could see was his face. Sure, Bertrum looked infuriated, but his eyes were dark. The sparks were gone, and all Joey could see behind those dazzling greens were hazes of despair. He couldn't find words to comfort him, even as Bertrum started shouting between him, Tom, and Grant.

"ANY COMPANY CONNECTED WITH THIS ONE WILL BE PAYING THE THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS IT TOOK TO GET ME HERE, EVEN THE PRICES FOR THE PAPERS AND PEN I HAD TO SEND TO THIS BASTARD! I have METAL and PARTS and MEN and MACHINES HERE, YOU FUCK!" he pointed a shaking finger at Joey.

_ Shaking. _

He wasn't just angry; he was terribly upset. This park meant a whole lot to him. For... some reason. Joey's eyes narrowed.

"Grant," he got up quickly and pulled his accountant towards the door, "Follow me."

"Ah!" And he forcibly did.

Joey opened the office door and shut it behind him before pulling Grant into the elevator.

Joey couldn't stop work on the Ink Machine! That was crazy! The machine had been in production for years, the final product of bringing the cartoon family to life coming closer with every use. Joey could almost hold the hand of Bendy himself! And that... thing was still down there.

"Thank you for getting me out of there," Grant muttered.

But Bertrum's eyes. Bertrum's rage. There was something more there, and in just a month Joey had thought so much about him that his heart couldn't take sending Bertrum back to London. That just felt wrong, monetary threats aside.

"Can we pay to keep Tom here? To maintain the machine?" Joey asked, ignoring Grant's thanks.

Grant quickly opened his folder and scanned the pages within, his finger running up and down the inked expenses.

"... that's doable, yes. Especially since Wally can help free of charge."

"Good! Good, that's wonderful news," Joey held Grant's shoulders, taking a deep sigh as he closed his eyes.

"Sir?" Grant asked.

This was the only option. The only way. The machine could wait, its power contained within the pipes that already ran through the walls and ceilings. It could moan and groan until the park was finished, and then Joey could have the characters come to life. They could even work there! He imagined sweet little Bendy, running around the front gates of the park, greeting everyone that came in, and he smiled to himself. He imagined leading Bertrum up to meet Bendy. He saw them shaking hands, and Bertrum smiling back towards Joey with pride and wonder.

"Sir!"

Joey opened his eyes.

"Is that what you want to do?" Grant gently closed his folder, "Put off this machine? And do the Piedmont project instead?"

An image flashed through Joey's mind: he was hugging Bertrum in front of the gates. Bertrum was so  _ grateful,  _ and Joey smiled against him. He was so warm. His chest rumbled as he spok-

"YES," Joey shook his head, attempting to shed the blush from his cheeks, "Damn you, Cohen."

"Wha- why?!"

"J-just damn you," Joey almost stomped back inside, but before he opened the office door, he had to compose himself.

He took a breath in.

And then a breath out.

Before opening the door. And - before Bertrum could scream anything - Joey made his declaration.

"Bendyland will now be our priority."

A part of Joey died with that sentence. His beautiful machine would have to wait. But at least it was in working condition, right?

The panic that flashed through Tom's eyes was heavy and fast, but Joey didn't see that. All Joey saw was life coming back into Bertrum's. All he saw were those shoulders relaxing, those eyebrows releasing from a furrowed glare, those lips parting in relief.  _ Those sparks at the back his eyes. _

"You're still employed," Joey rubbed Tom's shoulder as he walked by him.

"Oh," Tom muttered for the second time that day.

"We are stalling the machine, but it still has to be maintained. And that's in the budget," Joey sat back down in his chair, leaning his head into his hands.

"Should I get some booze to celebrate?" Tom asked.

"DAMN!" Joey smacked his hands on his desk and pointed straight at Tom, "Employee of the month! Right here! I'll give you money for it!"

Joey passed a ten dollar bill to Tom before the latter lumbered out of the office and towards the elevator. Grant took his place back at the chair next to the desk, but even with a chair open, Bertrum still sat atop said desk without a care.

As Joey had a moment to calm down, he felt as if he had just come out of some sort of trance. Joey had really just... Delayed the machine. Indefinitely. The Ink Machine. The game was named for the thing, yet here Joey was, pausing it's development for this redheaded British bastard. He wanted to scold himself, to reprimand himself for these seemingly terrible priorities, yet he just... couldn't. His heart was more content now than it had ever been. The entire past month felt worth it, the pacing, the panic, the concern; it was all gone. Bertrum was staying. Tom was staying. The machine would be okay.

But Joey was definitely in this for the long hall, now. He was absolutely screwed. There was no other explanation for something so brash.

He was in love with Bertrum Piedmont.

"Congrats," Grant chirped to Bertrum.

"Thanks," Bertrum chuckled with relief.

Joey leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair.

"Joseph?"

Joey took a deep breath in, "My name iS NOT JOSEPH-"

"Thank you."

Joey felt his cheeks become warm. He had no idea why his face felt like a sauna, but yet when he looked at Bertrum, said heat became as hot as the sun.

Bertrum's smile was so warm to look at, as cozy as a nap on the couch on a rainy day.

"Whatever,  _ Bertie," _ Joey muttered as he tilted his head back once more.

"Jackass."

"Fuck off."

"What a beautiful relationship," Grant muttered.

Bertrum laughed, and Joey couldn't help but chuckle.

"So what IS your project, Piedmont?" Grant asked.

When Joey saw Bertrum's eyes flash over to him, he gave Bertrum a nod.

"It's a Bendy-themed park. Rides, mascots, cartoons, food, the whole works," Bertrum wiggled his fingers.

Grant whistled, "Oooooh. No wonder it's so much money."

"Yes. I'm very excited to finally get to work."

"So am I," Joey added.

"You're barely involved in the building," Bertrum corrected.

"No, I'm excited for you to get to work," Joey snorted, "Working out in the open air? No thanks. I picked offices for a reason."

"I genuinely do not get how you guys can sit in offices all day," Bertrum crossed his arms, "I'm already choking on how stuffy it is."

"Welp, we have water coolers and comfy chairs, so who is the real winner here?" Joey challenged.

"I mean. We make more money," Bertrum offered.

"Fuck off."

Grant laughed.

"So what makes this park so important,  _ Bertie?"  _ Joey asked as he folded his legs and lounged with his arms hanging off his chair. Bertrum grimaced at the nickname before he replied.

"It's," Bertrum contemplated his answer, "It's my last one."

"Retirement?" Grant asked.

"Yes," Bertrum nodded.

"Hmm."

"It's going to be my magnum opus,"

"Your magnum opus?" Joey's eyes narrowed, "What does that mean?"

"It's going to be my greatest park," Bertrum replied, "There's a reason I gave you exclusive and fresh designs; I wanted to make something I've never made before. I'm pushing the boundaries of machinery, I'm bringing forth an experience never seen before on this planet."

"Why now?" Joey asked, "Is it because I'm just that damn special?"

Bertrum scoffed, "Not in the slightest. I'm just getting old. Doctor says I'm blessed to still be able to work, and I want to get this large of a project done before I can't."

Joey quickly pushed aside the feelings of mortality before they picked at his age.

"Booze!"

Everyone perked up as Tom strolled out of the elevator with a paper bag. He sat it on the desk and pulled out two beautiful bottles: one of bourbon, and one of whiskey.

"Good work, Tommy," Joey reached into his desk and produced three shot glasses that he then sat on the table.

"Please for the love of God stop calling me that."

"Can't do that, Tommy."

After Joey struggled with the cap of the whiskey, Tom took it from him and opened it, and he filled his and Joey's glasses. Then Bertrum filled his and Grant's with bourbon.

"I propose a toast!" Joey declared as he lifted his shot glass, "Not only to our studios and the projects that lie ahead, but... To Bertrum Piedmont."

Bertrum's eyes widened, and Joey reveled in the pleasant surprise on his face.

"Thank you ever so much for making us your magnum opus," Joey smiled, "Let this toast be the beginning of making  _ our dreams  _ come to life."

Bertrum lifted his own glass with a huge smile, along with Tom and Grant, who had similar expressions.

"Cheers!"

Glasses clinked around the desk, and shots were downed in seconds. As Joey set down his glass and let out a sigh of victory, he noticed Grant was giving him an ornery look. A knowing look. A smirk. A dark, calculated smirk that shaded his very eyes behind his glasses.

Joey's stomach dropped. They didn't even have to exchange words. He knew exactly why Grant was smirking, and he felt his entire life was in jeopardy.

Grant knew.

Grant knew who Joey was in love with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, THANKS FOR READING! Things get fun from here, and I am just gonna keep truckin with this fic~ I love writing it, so I hope you at least appreciated reading it!


	10. Grant's Unfortunate Overtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one is allowed to know Joey Drew's secrets without suffering the consequences.

"I expect a pay raise."

"I will have you murdered before I buy your silence,  _ Cohen." _

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" Grant took a deep breath, "Good to know you'll have me murdered, though."

The two of them stood in the billiards room, far off from the rest of the studio. To be fair, the studio didn't need this room, but Joey's passion for billiards outweighed his common sense - as most things did - and he bought the pool table anyway. Now he leaned against it, glaring at Grant as the latter cowered in the corner after being threatened with murder. It had only been twenty minutes since their meeting with Tom and Bertrum had ended, and it had already led to murder threats.

"Listen!" Grand begged, "I don't find it offensive that you're in love with a man! I don't think it's a problem, and in fact, I'm pretty sure most of the people working here wouldn't give a damn either!"

Joey's grimaced deepened, "I feel like you're lying to me."

"I'm telling the truth, and your trust issues are not why I should be murdered!"

"I'm not actually going to have you murdered, Cohen."

"Why don't I believe YOU now?"

Joey rolled his eyes, "But you must swear, up and down, not to tell ANYONE about this. This is perhaps the worst thing to ever happen to my emotional life, and all I can do is wait for it to go away!"

Joey hung his head with a deep, heavy sigh, but Grant boldly chose to walk towards him.

"I don't think you. Have to wait for it to go away?"

Joey glared towards him, his usual soft blue eyes now piercing ice cold.

Grant took a step back, "What I'm saying is he's obviously homosexual!" 

"... he is?" Joey's face fell out of a sneer into complete befuddlement, "How do you know?!"

"He... radiates that energy?!" Grant gesticulated as he tried to find the right words, "He... feels homosexual, if you ask me."

"... wha-"

"Just trust me, he's homosexual."

"Well, that's great, Grant. Now there's a man that's perfectly available in my life that I can never have," Joey set his head on his arms, "You're making everything so much better."

"... Wait, why not?" Grant asked.

"Because he fucking hates me," Joey mumbled.

Grant glanced back at the door before looking back to Joey, "... the man that just smiled at you like you were the center of his world?"

"I gave him the ticket for his magnum opus, of course he was super happy," Joey pushed himself back up and lumbered towards the cue sticks, "We're playing pool now."

"I have work to do-"

Joey jabbed the cue stick at Grant as if he was about to stab him with it, "I said. We're playing pool now."

Grant gazed down at the end of the stick as if it were a rapier, "Okay."

Joey started rearranging the pool balls into their signature triangle shape as Grant nervously set down his accounting books. It was as if Joey was pulling up every gun he had to shoot the poor accountant, and Grant was just there to die.

"... why do you think he hates you?" Grant more asked to get the topic off of him.

"I think he hates me because he does," Joey bent down and lined up his first shot, "I mocked his work without even knowing what it was, treated him like a child, and then realized I was in love with him."

Joey hit the ball, and the triangle scattered. If Grant was new here, he'd be shocked at the list of behaviors Joey had just listed, but instead he went on as if he was just read a grocery list.

"Well. That's not the best way to start a relationship," Grant stalked over and took aim, "But with the way that he looked at you earlier, I wouldn't say everything's lost!"

He hit the ball, and two or three of the brightly colored balls panned out in front of him.

"What the hell, you think I'll fall for that?" Joey glared before bending back over, "You're manipulating me, Cohen."

"No! I'm not!" Grant walked over and narrowed his eyes at the balls, "He was so relieved when you took on his park! He was so HAPPY. And I really don't think that amount of happiness would occur if he didn't at least appreciate that you exist."

"I genuinely do not see how he could appreciate my existence."

"I don't either, but I really think he does."

"Cohen."

"Sorry, that was an easy one."

Joey struck his ball, and it was as if he parted the Red Sea as three other balls fell into the pouches around the table.

"Then what? What do I do? Your delusional mind is telling me Piedmont is homosexual and at least appreciates my existence. What do I do with this information?" Joey leaned against his stick. 

"... sir, may I pry?" and Grant leaned in to give his next shot.

"If you must."

"Have you ever asked someone on a date?" he landed his hit.

Joey smacked his hands against the table, "YES? I have dated many fine young ladies!"

Grant counted his blessings as a ball fell into the pouch, "But no guys?"

Joey's shoulders slouched, "No? Not since I was very young. And the air has changed since then."

Grant attempted to wrap his mind around a young Joey Drew flirting with and dating other men, but he decided that was a thought for later.

"Plus I'm old, Grant! Old as dirt. How do I flirt with a man that's older than me?" Joey easily struck another ball into the pouch at Grant's side.

Grant blinked, "He's older than you?"

"Yes. He's eight years my senior, he's 65," Joey crossed his arms.

"He looks your age!"

"He's aged like a fine wine and  _ fucking god  _ he's gorgeous," Joey's eyes grew wide at his own words.

"Uh."

"Sir?"

"Ignore I said that."

"Okay."

"Nonetheless... Do you think this is salvageable? Do you think I could do something with... me and him?" Joey leaned over once more.

"Frankly, I think if you just showed him how good at pool you were," Grant leaned in, "I think he'd at least be charmed."

And he successfully hit his ball in the wrong direction.

"Game's over."

Grant gazed up as Joey made his way over to him.

"W-why?"

"You're coming with me, and you're going to help me buy Bertrum a flirting gift."

Joey picked Grant's accounting books up for him as Grant tried to understand his words.

"... excuse me?"

"You're a man," Joey stood in front of him, his eyes blazing with determination.

"... I am. Yeah," Grant raised an eyebrow.

"Then who better to take with me to pick out a romantic gift for a man than another man that already knows my situation?" Joey grabbed Grant's arm with his open hand and tugged him along, "Come."

"Sir, I have Work To Do."

"I'll pay you overtime."

_ "Okay, if you insist." _

As they went back out into the studio, they didn't realize two ears had been listening, two eyes watching. And those two eyes were wide in shock as they watched Joey and Grant go.

Joey set Grant's books on the administrative front desk and strided out into New York City with the accountant at his heels. Poor Grant had to jog to keep up with Joey's pace, and he wasn't in the mood for a race.

"You meet a charming man, what do you buy?" Joey asked, "How do you choose a gift that is more than just from man to man? And more from man... to  _ man?" _

"I don't understand the difference between those, but what I do understand, sir, is it's the personal, unique quality of a gift that makes it romantic."

"How so?"

They charged into a suit store, and Joey stopped charging just long enough to hear Grant out.

"Jesus! We are!" Grant gazed back out the store doors, "Two blocks over!!! In less than a two minutes-"

"Hurry up, Cohen, explain the romance."

"Okay, okay," Grant stood up straight, still panting, "For Christmas, I bought my wife a locket necklace, but it was the inscription of our wedding anniversary on the inside that made it special. She put a picture of us at our wedding in the locket, and now she wears it every time she goes out to the market."

A smile spread across Joey's face, "You're a casanova, Cohen."

"Th-thank you, sir."

"So," Joey walked back outside "I'll-"

Grant launched himself after, afraid he'd lose Joey.

"- and I'll have "Bertie" inscribed on the inside of it."

People that walked by gave Joey and Grant strange looks, but Joey's determination blinded him, and Grant was too exasperated to care.

"Should I give him chocolates? A stuffed bear?"

"That's... Valentine's Day stuff, sir."

"Good point," Joey turned on his heels and sped down the street.

Grant sped after until Joey suddenly stopped again.

"... what about a cake? A cheesecake? It's a New York City specialty, surely he'd appreciate it."

"That's," Grant panted again, "A great idea, sir."

"Of course!" and Joey sped off again.

It was like that all evening. Joey sped around the immediate area of the studio, collecting gifts and gift ideas, all the while Grant ran after him like a Pekingese pup in the middle of the summer. And somehow, with all the work and the shops and the bags, a nice set of presents was collected. A long list of items that were far too expensive to be platonic gifts now laid in the bags Joey was carrying by the time they were done, and all Grant had to show for it were pit stains on his work shirt.

"Grant," Joey held up his bags as they stood outside the studio, "If he doesn't fall for me after this, then he's not human."

"Sure," Grant grimaced, "But sir, when do I get my overtime? It's already past dinner, my wife is gonna be pissed."

"Goodness Grant! Can't you just be hap-"

Grant glared into his soul.

Joey set down his bags, reached into his wallet, and pulled out some bills before shoving them towards Grant, "Here, whatever."

Grant counted the money that had just been haphazardly thrown at his face, "... this is my monthly salary."

"And now you have two of them for the month," Joey picked his bags back up, "That's for the secret you're keeping and the overtime. Goodnight!"

And with that, Joey trotted back up the stairs to the studio, leaving Grant stunned into silence on the sidewalk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again! Thanks for reading! I actually drew a banner for this fic, and if you wanna see that (as well as my designs for Joey and Bert, and my BATIM OCs), head on over to my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/your_narrator13)  
> See ya next week 😘


	11. The Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norman has got to stop sneaking around the studio, yet here he is, sneaking around the studio.

"... Excuse me?"

Norman gazed down the stairs from his projector booth to see none other than Mr. Homosexual Drew. His boss seemed gleeful, his hands full of small, expensive-looking bags that gleamed with gold-colored writing.

"Why are you still here?" Joey asked, his eyes oddly soft.

_ Because I'm contemplating what I learned about you today. _

"I have a guy helping me find a reel," Norman bluffed, his hands anxiously folded in his lap, "We'll be a bit, but I promise we aren't messing around."

Joey smiled wide and nodded, "Excellent work, Poke! Keep it up!"

"Polk," Norman mumbled as he watched Joey strut down the hall.

But as he watched, his eyes honed in on what Joey was carrying. Those... Bags. Those were luxury goods. Norman's eyes narrowed, but it took less than a moment for him to connect the dots.

"Those are for Piedmont," Norman mumbled, "He actually did it."

Norman gazed back at the floorboards once more, zoning out as he considered the day's events.

First of all... Joey was really good at pool. Maybe he bought the pool table to show off his skills? To be fair, based on how easy he made pool look, Joey was perfectly allowed to show off those skills. They were the only skills Norman had ever seen him provide the company.

Second of all, Piedmont. Homosexuality. Drew. These were topics Norman never thought he'd hear about at work, let alone start to see come into reality! To think - to even dare to guess - that Joey Drew was homosexual was far beyond Norman's expectations. Joey flirted with the women around the studio all the time! He flirted with them, complemented them, made them feel special. He even bought them jewelry when he was feeling extra gaudy, but now he was basically doing the same thing... for a man?! Was the previous flirting a show? It sure didn't seem like it. Perhaps he was into both genders?!

... would buying presents even work for a rich guy?!

"Would that even work?" Norman mumbled.

"Would what work?"

In a moment of fight-or-flight, Norman pushed himself away from whoever was talking, thus shoving himself into the floor and almost under his desk.

"Do you... Have ears, Polk?"

Norman glared up at a now smirking Sammy Lawrence.

"Why are you here?" Norman grumbled as he pulled himself back up 

"I had songs to finish up. You?" Sammy teetered back and forth on his feet like an obnoxious schoolboy.

Norman set his chair straight and sat back down on it, "... Thinking."

"Thinking?" Sammy curled his nose up.

"Is thinking hard for you?"

Norman felt a newspaper smack the back of his head, yet he felt no regret in his heart.

"NO!" Sammy squawked, "I'm just wondering why you'd stay  _ here  _ to think!"

"Because what I'm thinking about has to do with  _ here,"  _ Norman leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowing.

"Well, let me tell you something!" Sammy pointed his newspaper at Norman, "I just saw Joey, and do you know what he said to me?"

"What?"

"He said "Have a nice evening, Lawrence!" "

Norman blinked, "He gave a kind farewell and called you a respectful name?"

"YES!" Sammy threw his arms up, "You get why that's weird!"

"Of course, that. Never happens."

"I'll betcha it has something to do with those bags he was carrying! Probably spent all the money on himself, the pig."

Norman mulled over Sammy's words as the man kept squawking. To allude? Or tell? Or just keep it secret? Norman pouted at the conundrum.

_ "What do you know?"  _ Sammy sneered.

"I'm not sure you're ready for the truth," Norman replied, "Because those bags are not for Joey. That much I'll tell you."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know who they're for."

Sammy scoffed. Then, he laughed. His laugh was obnoxious, like the bird that wakes you up at 6am on a Saturday morning.

"You? You are privy to such private information? Yeah right!" Sammy snorted.

"Hm," Norman tipped his hat forward, covering his eyes, "Believe what you want, but I know what I know."

There was a pause. Norman could feel Sammy judging the situation and sizing him up, but Norman just smirked in response.

"Hmph," Sammy turned around in a huff, "Goodnight, Polk."

"Goodnight, Sammy."

And with that, the composer stalked off once more. Norman simply chuckled at the behavior. From down the hall Joey's footsteps scuttled out from the elevator, met Sammy's, and Norman heard the both of them leave.

Then, he sat. He sat and listened.

For a long time it was silent. No animators, no musicians, no writers, no one. Even the administration had gone silent, with nothing but the occasional shout from outside bleeding through the halls. It was peaceful, tranquil, and Norman soaked the calm in for all it was worth, because he knew it would end soon. He knew the quiet of the studio would be over. But that quiet's interruption was important.

For he knew that once  _ it  _ started that no one was truly there.

_ Skreeeeek! _

And there it was.

_ Skreeeeeeek! _

Norman didn't know what it was. Norman didn't want to know what it was. But somewhere - underneath the floorboards and down below - something was scraping against the wood, making a horrible screech that was only second to nails on a chalkboard.

_ Skreeeeeeek! _

But it only made that noise when everyone was gone, as if it were trepidatious to stir during the daylight hours. It had to at least be sentient to know when everyone was gone, and that sentience alone was horrifying. It was no machine or prop; what was down there was alive, and Norman didn't want to know what was alive. Not that night, at least. 

Thus, Norman sprouted up, strolled up to the fifth trashcan in the Music Department, and picked Wally's keys out of them. He then trotted down towards the elevator, only to pass it and begin his ascension of the stairs.

"What did you get today, Mister Drew?" he mumbled to himself.

The stairs themselves almost resembled Norman; dark, tall, the road less traveled. Or at least that's how he saw them. Every day, he'd watch his coworkers pile up around the iron gates, waiting for the massive metal machine, when all they truly needed was two feet and sometimes a flashlight. Norman himself didn't need a flashlight. He knew these stairs like he knew himself.

It wasn't too long until he made it up to Joey's floor, and with a simple twist of the keys, he opened the man's office.

Norman's back arched as he strided into the office, a sense of pride overcoming him as he gazed upon all the sensitive information. Filing cabinets, perhaps filled with documents and folders of gossip and numbers, lined the walls, and the desk that sat in front of him was more posh than any other in the building. The very room at large radiated Joey's mocking energy, displaying the man's status compared to the rest of the company.

Norman echoed Sammy's words, "Fuckin pig."

And glanced around.

"Aha!" he walked over to the small group of bags that barely poked out of what seemed to be a utility closet, "Let's see what we got here."

Norman bent down and gently moved aside any tissue paper that could obstruct his view. Fortunately, these bags were small, so there wasn't too much to move.

"A hair comb, a bottle of vintage whiskey, a broach, cufflinks, big boss man presents," Norman grumbled, "Geez. Joey's insane."

Norman removed his hands as he shook his head. He even clicked his tongue in resolute disappointment.

"Buying a rich guy things to earn his love? Now that's just ridiculous. ... But the cake ain't too bad of an idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again! Thanks for reading! This chapter is a bit short, but I promise the next one is a TRIP.  
> Last week I said I drew a banner for this fic, which is kind of a lie, because I actually drew art that looks like a banner, and if you wanna see that you should go [here](https://twitter.com/your_narrator13/status/1235047978462621696?s=19).  
> But anyway, hope you enjoyed! See ya next week~


	12. Cheesecake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey is going to do it! He's going to give Bertrum his first gift!  
> ... Of course it can't be _that_ easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WASH YOUR HANDS.  
> SELF-QUARANTINE.  
> PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR HEALTH.  
> GO to a DOCTOR if you THINK YOU HAVE SYMPTOMS OF THE VIRUS.  
> It's a dangerous world out there, and I want all of you to be safe!!!

"Mrs. Rodriguez!"

"Yes, Mister Drew?"

Joey sauntered up to her in a brand new suit. The navy blue material brought out the shimmer in his blue eyes, and the light blue stripes followed his figure perfectly. Even his hair was freshly pressed and done, shimmering in the studio lights along with his shined loafers.

"Can you tell me when Mister Piedmont is coming in today?" Joey leaned against the front desk with a brilliant smile.

"He won't be."

Joey blinked, "Excuse me?"

"He won't be, sir. According to my notes, he'll be out at the work site."

"Work site?" Joey leaned further towards his secretary, "Where's that?"

Mrs. Rodriguez blinked back at him, "He didn't tell you?"

"No!" Joey pouted.

"Well, I'll give you the address then," she tore off a bit of paper and began scribbling down the work site she vaguely spoke of, "Need to deliver something for him?"

"Uh, yes," Joey nervously tapped his toe.

"Here," she handed him the slip, "Good luck!"

Joey took it, "Thanks."

Little did she know how much he needed it.

Joey sped towards the breakroom with a grimace.

"Plates and china, plates and china, plates and china-"

And he ducked in, stealing two plates and two forks. Even took some napkins for good measure. He then sped back out, past Wally, who gazed after him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Wonda what dame's got Drew all fussed up?" Wally asked no one.

But Norman gazed down the hall, knowing the exact dame that had him fussed.

Joey then leapt into the elevator, smashing his floor's button as many times as his pudgy thumb could let him before the doors finally shut.

"Come on, come on," he glanced down to the address, "That's at least an hour out! Goddamnit, why did I have to get a fucking cake?!"

And the elevator ascended. With every floor he rose up, Joey told his employees to "WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE!" as he glared through the ceiling to his office. The employees stood in silent shock as they watched their boss hog the elevator all the way up to the top floor.

"AHA!" Joey cried as the doors finally opened.

He burst into his office and began to collect his things. Coat, hat, cake, present-  _ which present?  _ He couldn't take them all at once! He needed to keep most of them waiting in the wings, for the romance in the future! Just choose one for now. So he chose the broach, and then he shut and locked his door before going back to the elevator. 

"WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE!" he screamed again as the elevator gently lowered through the studio.

"Good luck, sir!" Buddy called as Joey passed the second floor.

"Thanks kid!" Joey yelled back as he continued his descent.

He then finally arrived at the bottom floor once more, and he practically sprinted across the white and gold tile to the door.

"Cancel my appointmen-"

"Already did!" Mrs. Rodriguez called as he sped by.

"God bless you!"

And he was out the door.

Joey had to run down another two blocks just to get to his cream Mercury Eight Coupe, but by God it was better than walking. It was 10 am; he had to move. Maybe they could have the cheesecake for lunch? That sounded romantic enough, so Joey declared to himself to make this the real plan, and definitely not an after thought. He placed the cake and the broach in the passenger's seat, hit the gas, and sped a total of one block before he was stuck in traffic.

"GODDAMNIIIIIIIT!!!!" Joey shouted.

He was in New York City, not sure what he expected. Fortunately his windows were closed.

The city moved around him as he slowly inched through its busy morning streets. The fall air was cool, comfortable, and made the very little progress he was making at least a little easier to put up with. Joey rolled down his window and gazed at the passerbys. He saw men in suits, in overalls, in jeans; all walks of life, converging in one city. Every woman was dressed in her best, beautiful dresses, lovely coats, and hats to protect their long lashes from the sun beating down. He even saw Allison walking towards the studio.

"Good morning Miss Pendell!" Joey waved.

"Mister Drew!" she jumped slightly, but waved with a warm smile nonetheless, "Where are you off to?"

Joey was moving so slowly he had the time to chat.

"A work site for a friend of mine. Bought him a cake."

"Oh!" she chirped, "How considerate! What kind?"

Joey glanced back to his passenger seat with a fondness, "A cheesecake."

"Oh, that sounds delightful!"

"It better be," Joey snorted, "I have to drive an hour to get to him."

She laughed, and it sounded like church bells on a beautiful Sunday. 

"Then please send my warm regards, and good luck!"

"Will do, thank you!"

"You're welcome! Have a lovely day!" she waved.

And he waved after as she continued her stroll.

"God she's beautiful," Joey mumbled, "Men are gorgeous. Women are gorgeous. God."

It was another half hour before Joey finally broke out of the city limits. He was now racing down a dirt road through the open countryside, passing by houses, farms, and open fields of green grass. His car was like a cloud, racing along the bottom of the blue horizon as he kept glancing down at the address.

"In the middle of bum-fuck NOWHERE," he snapped to the empty fields.

But then, at the edges of his earring tickled the sounds of scraping metal. Scraping metal, hundreds of tires, the screams of worn voices. For a moment, it almost resembled the machine, but as screams became clearer, they were direct and confident. Then, small dark shapes dotted the very end of the street. Joey started to slow down as he took in the forming scene.

Massive machines, cranes, bulldozers, large metal beams. The "work site" was brimming with activity as hundreds of men and women ran about in their overalls, clearing the land that would later be Bendyland. Joey was in awe. A large group of trees had already been cut down and thrown to the side, creating a stack that a group of lumberjacks were slowly working through. Massive cutters moved through the remaining trees, cutting them aside with ease, as bulldozers and cranes worked to flatten and fill in the land left behind. The amount of motion - the amount of work - all being done in one moment left Joey stunned. It was no wonder that the work sounded like a machine; watching it felt just the same.

He didn't notice an older, muscled woman charging up towards his vehicle as he sat in silence. He was jolted when she knocked on the window, and he thus rolled it down.

"Excuse me, this is private property, gonna have to ask ya ta leave," her West Virginian accent was thick.

"This-this is my property," Joey mumbled in return, "I'm Joey Drew."

"Ya," she paused, staring at him in awe, "You? You're Drew?"

"That's. Me, yes?"

She put a hand on her hip, "I've never been more disappointed in my life."

"EXCUSE ME?" Joey roared.

"I'll go get Bert," and she walked off without a care.

"EY!" Joey launched himself out of his car, and he slammed his door shut, "HEY, RESPECT YOUR FUCKING EMPLOYER."

While some of the workers noticed Joey's screams, the woman was less than unphased, walking back into the frey without hesitation. Joey started to stomp after her, but a man twice his size gently stepped in his path.

"Sir, please, it's best you not enter the work zone," his voice was deeper than Bertrum's and had a bit of an accent, "Please wait! I promise Bert will be here soon!"

Joey was seething, but he relented in favor of staying safe, "Fine."

"Thank you!" the man gave him a soft smile, "So, you're Mister Drew?"

"Yes," Joey growled.

"I love Bendy!" the man chirped with sparkling eyes.

And all sense of rage was gone.

"Really?" Joey grinned up to him, "A picture-goer, are you?"

"Yeah!" the man nodded, "Went out with the wife just a week ago and got to see "Cheap Seats!" I love Alice!"

"Ah, excellent!" Joey laughed, "She's our little Angel!"

"You're making some great stuff, Mister Drew!"

"Thank you, Mister...? I don't think I've caught your name!"

"Maurice Howard, sir!"

"You've for some great taste, Mister Howard!" Joey took his meaty hand and shook it.

"Joey?"

Joey turned and... froze. His brain turned to white noise as his eyes grew wide.

The first thing Joey noticed was the tuff of hair peaking out from Bertrum's shirt. Then, the muscles behind that hair and that shirt followed. Then, the neck muscles, the shoulder muscles, the arm muscles! Bertrum's shirt was so loose and thin that it draped off his body as if he were a Grecian statue in an art museum. The dirt splotches that covered his shirt pants, and massive work gloves didn't help, either; they pushed the shirt to cling in all the right places. Even Bertrum's hair had suffered at the site, being messed atop his head and falling across his face. Just looking at him make Joey felt like a teenager that was gawking at his dad's magazines.

"Hi!" Joey's voice was far too high-pitched.

"What are you doing here?" Bertrum grinned.

"I thought you were coming in to work today, but since you never showed up, I asked where you were! And I was told you were here! So here I am!" Joey was trying his best to dig out thoughts from all the screaming in his mind.

Bertrum snorted, "Well, this was in the schedule."

"In the schedule?"

"Yes, the schedule."

"What schedule?"

"It... it was in the briefings that we mailed back and forth? For months?" Bertrum scoffed, "Of course you didn't read it."

"It was probably in your technological mumbo jumbo!" Joey argued.

"It was after the cover page," Bertrum corrected.

"... GODDAMNIT," Joey stomped his foot.

Bertrum laughed, and Joey watched that broad chest heave and hated himself.

"Well, since you're here, I can at least show you around, yeah?" Bertrum smirked.

Joey wanted to answer "yes" in hopes one of those godly arms would wrap around his shoulders, but then he remembered why he was there.

"Maybe!" Joey held up a finger.

"Maybe?" Bertrum asked.

"But first!" 

Joey walked back to his car and opened the door.

"You can do this," he mumbled to himself as he reached for the cheesecake box.

He pulled the box out and opened it, and thank god the cake was fine. It was a small New York cheesecake, creamy and drizzled with strawberry syrup. A few extra strawberries were left along the sides of the cake for garnish.

"Come eat!" Joey fell into his seat and reached across the seats to open the passenger door.

"Eat?!" Bertrum yelled.

Joey  _ reveled  _ in the pleasant surprise.

"Yes!" he patted the passenger's seat, "You may sit on the edge, but don't sit IN my car, you're disgusting."

Bertrum walked over to the car, sat on the edge of the mauve cloth seats, and swung his feet instantly.

"WHAT? DID I JUST? SAY?" Joey screamed.

Bertrum ignored his distress, "What are we eating?"

_ "BERTRUM." _

Bertrum laughed, "I'll get it cleaned for you, you big baby. Now, what are we eating?"

Joey glared into his soul, but all Bertrum did was laugh in return. Eventually, Joey groaned and shoved the cake box at him before planting his face into his hands.

"What's up with you?" Bertrum snorted, "And what the fuck is this cake?"

Joey glanced up, "You've never had a cheesecake?"

"No," Bertrum's eyes narrowed at the box, "Does it have actual cheese...?"

"No, stupid, who'd put actual cheese in a cake?!" Joey snickered.

"I don't know!" Bertrum grimaced, "I've never had this cake before! It could work, you don't know! Cut me a slice!"

Joey took the box back, reached for the utensils and realized...

"... I didn't bring a knife."

"What?"

"I can't. Cut the cake," Joey's arms fell to his sides as he stared down at the box, "I didn't. Bring a knife."

Bertrum was quiet.

Joey was silent. He was stunned into silence as he stared at that damn cake. His nerves were already high from the man that sat in the passenger's seat, but now the whole reason he drove out here was for-

"FUCK IT," Joey put the box in between him and Bertrum, "Fuck it, fuck today, fuck ME."

He then reached down, retrieved the two forks he  _ did  _ bring, and handed one to Bertrum.

"The side facing you is yours, and the side facing me is mine. Eat," Joey took a big scoop of the cheesecake and shoved it into his mouth.

"You are making a  _ very  _ large deal out of this cake," Bertrum took his own regular-sized bite and put it into his mouth, "You're so fuck...in.... drama...."

Joey looked over to him and saw shock etched into Bertrum's brow.

"That's bloody amazing," Bertrum looked into the box as if it held all the jewels in the world.

"Now you see!" Joey gestured to the white cardboard box between them, "It's the best cheesecake in the world, and I even got it with strawberry, and I really wanted to get it just for you! And I finally did!"

"For me?"

Joey reviewed his words. Best cheesecake, strawberry specifically, for you-  _ oh god he did say that.  _ Should he try? Should he go for it?

Test the waters first.

"Yes, for you," Joey smiled, relaxed at admitting the truth.

"You drove all the way out here, pressed suit and all, with a cheesecake... just to eat it with me?" Bertrum's eyes were wider than Joey had ever seen them. He could see every light and spark in Bertrum's mind, and it was beautiful.

"Yes!" Joey repeated, "I mean, we're definitely more than just coworkers at this point, don't you think so?"

Oh, that hit. Bertrum's face went from scrunched-up confusion to a small, gentle smile in seconds.

"I guess we are," and he took another bite of cheesecake.

Not today. No no, not today. But that step made Joey ease back into his seat as he ate more of the cheesecake.

"Do you do this with all of your business associates?"

_ Oh? _

Joey replied without hesitation, "No, just you."

There was a pause. Joey stared at Bertrum, waiting for his reply.

"Interesting," Bertrum nodded.

And they carried on eating.

It got oddly quiet after that. Neither of them were upset in any way, but there was an air lingering between them, an energy that got Joey's heart racing. He could tell Bertrum was affected by it too, as his eyes were a bit more erratic, and he bit his lip on occasion. The lip biting was hot, yes, but that wasn't the point.

But eventually the cake was finished, and while Joey did want to stay, he was getting sweaty in his suit. Whether it was from the tension or the heat he wasn't sure, but he needed to get back indoors either way.

"I'm afraid I have to go back to the office," he admitted as he put the forks back with the unused plates.

"And I must get back to work," Bertrum helped him by putting the box together, but not before stealing a strawberry and popping it into his mouth, "I really do appreciate this, Joseph."

"I'm glad I could brighten your day, Bertie."

Joey thought back to the watch that had that inscription and smiled. One day, he'd give that over, and he'd get to see Bertrum's eyes light up again, just like they did today.

Bertrum then handed him the empty cake box, and Joey took it, but in that moment their fingers gently scraped by, their warm skin meeting for but a moment.

And Bertrum actually gasped.

Joey acted as if he didn't know what just happened, "Huh?"

"I just remembered a project I'd like to get back to!" Bertrum nodded, "So I'll see you,  _ Joseph.  _ And thanks again!"

Bertrum pushed himself back out of the car, pulling his gloves back on as he walked away. Joey sighed, content in his morning accomplishments. He almost didn't want to go to work after this! Especially since now he had to get his seats cleaned. Joey glanced down to where he was sitting, to the dirt and grime that now scattered across his seats, and-

"WAIT!" Joey grabbed the small box that had worked itself between the seats and leapt out of his car, "BERTIE, WAIT!"

Bertrum stopped and gazed back. One of his coworkers already seemed to be approaching him, but Joey didn't care.

"Don't call me Bertie," Bertrum mumbled as Joey ran up to him.

"Fuck off! Here!" Joey cemented his feet into the ground and opened the box.

It was the broach. Joey had almost forgotten it. The broach was a double-lapel, with gold trim and chains connecting the two jewels. The jewels were perfectly cut emeralds, one in each lapel, and their radiant green matched wonderfully with the gold setting. Joey knew they'd match Bertrum's eyes, too, and just standing there and gazing between the broach and Bertrum, they already sparkled in the same way.

The woman that had been approaching to talk to Bertrum gazed down at the broach with her own sparkling eyes.

"That's beautiful!" she commented.

"Its authentic!" Joey chirped.

"My goodness!" she gazed with Joey at Bertrum.

There was a pause. A long, tense pause that rang through Joey's ears before the worst response fell from Bertrum's lips.

"... I already have one."

Joey's heart fell to his feet, as if concrete had been poured into it from the very worksite he stood on.

"The sentiment is appreciated, but," Bertrum gently closed the box and pushed it back towards Joey, "I already have a broach very similar to that. I can wear my broach to the office, if you'd like."

And Joey deflated like a balloon left out after a birthday party. His arms slowly lowered as he tried to comprehend what he just heard.

"You... Can't you... Just take it?" Joey offered it forward again.

"I'll give it to someone that would actually wear it!" Bertrum offered as he reached out for the box.

"No!" Joey held it back, "I want  _ you  _ to wear it! I bought it for  _ you!" _

"Why would I wear something I already own?!" Bertrum frowned, his hand falling back to his side.

"Because  _ I bought it for you!" _ Joey snapped.

Bertrum winced, "I appreciated the cake! And I appreciate this too! I just can't wear it because I-"

"I heard you," Joey stuffed the box into his pants pocket, "You already have one."

"Joey," Bertrum grimaced, "That's just a bunch of metal and jewels, it's. It's not that big-"

"That was half a month's salary!" Joey snapped again, "And I bought it because these emeralds match your fucking eyes! But I guess that doesn't matter, right? My salary doesn't matter?! I can't just return a piece like this!"

"I'll, I'll," Bertrum's brow turned up in confusion, "What if I pay you back for it?"

"THAT'S..." Joey sighed, "Nevermind. Never. Fucking. Mind. I'm leaving."

And he started back towards his car.

"What about the damn broach?!" Bertrum demanded.

Joey didn't even turn to look at him, "I'll give it to someone that understands what a fucking present is!"

Joey yanked his car door open.

"STOP BEING SUCH A CHILD," Bertrum yelled after.

For a moment, they had both felt it: that spark. It was there! It was right between them, shimmering like the emeralds on that stupid broach. But now, Joey was unsure. "I have one very similar," what did that matter? What did any of it matter?! The broach was a gift, a thoughtful and expensive present, and Bertrum should have been grateful. He should have shown more appreciation.

Joey pulled himself into his car, revved the engine up, and turned back on to the dirt road as fast as he could. He sped back towards New York City, pressing the gas pedal as hard as he could into the leather floor.

And he grinded his teeth the whole way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I giveth the romance  
> Then I taketh it away  
> Will Bertrum make up for this folly? Will Joey be a bitch about it? Well, we know the answer to the second question, but for the first one you should tune in next week to find out! And if you need more social media that is EXEMPT from depressing virus news, follow my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/your_narrator13), where I retweet hopeful things and fun art!  
> See ya next week!


	13. Sugar Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only one man knows how to get Joey Drew to forgive him, and that man is Bertrum Piedmont.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOCIAL DISTANCE YOURSELF. WASH YOUR HANDS. DO NOT SHAKE HANDS WITH ANYONE. COUGH INTO YOUR SHOULDER.  
>  **DON'T BE THOSE IDIOTS HAVING SPRING BREAK ON THE BEACHES.**  
> ... anyway enjoy the chapter!

Working at Joey Drew Studios was actually more difficult than usual, if you could believe it. Never had the staff seen their boss so..  _ Angry.  _ Due dates, time crunches, mishandled processes; sure, those always riled Joey up, but this anger was far colder than anything before it. It was like the sharp chill of winter air as you walked out the front door first thing in the morning: cold and unforgiving. On top of that, Joey spared no expense! Anyone that approached him was prey.

"I've been trying to talk to you for weeks!" Sammy had barked.

"Perhaps it's your shrill annoying screeching that keeps me away," Joey snarled.

And even the innocent found themselves being glared down on.

"Mister Drew?" Dot had asked.

"Who gave you permission to approach me?" Joey lazily sneered.

His ego was on full-tilt, and the entire studio was suffering from it. Everyone cleared the halls when he approached, and those stuck at their desks worked extra hard in hopes he'd leave them alone. Did it prolong production time? Yes, but the lives it saved were much more important. Indeed, it was a dangerous time to work there.

And Joey himself didn't care.

He had become too focused on Bertrum, he decided. He was sticking his nose too far into something that didn't really matter. He was old. Bertrum was old. But the studio? It was  _ thriving,  _ And he, Joey Drew, was their leader, and he wouldn't let them stray off course! He stalked the studio like a rattlesnake, striking out at anyone that dared to move out of line. He wouldn't let up, either.

Not for nothing.

Representatives from Piedmont Industries would come in every now and again, giving Joey their progress at the worksite, and they were given the absolute privilege of seeing his kind side. After all, they weren't his employees! If he treated them the same way he treated his own staff, well, that would cause a mess far out of his reach! They gave him kind smiles, they talked business, Joey shook their hands, gave them thanks, and sent them on their way.

"I don't want you here, anyway," Joey growled to the non-present Bertrum every time they left.

Needless to say, he wasn't dealing with this well. Every once in a while, he'd find himself staring at the Bendy statue on his desk. Sometimes he'd be tempted to throw it against a wall, picking it up and preparing to launch it across the room, but then he'd set the poor thing back down and pat Bendy's head. 

"It's not your fault," he always told the inanimate object.

He also locked his storage closet with the presents in it. After all, those presents weren't important, and neither were the files that were also in there, apparently.

But there was one event Joey just could not stay mad towards: Alice Angel's birthday approached! September 28th was the magical day that the gal was created, and as her papa, Joey couldn't help but smile just a bit. At the studio, they universally celebrate the birthdays for Bendy, Boris, and Alice! And Joey just couldn't stay too angry if his animated kids were involved.

Was he still angry? Very, yet Mrs. Rodriguez still had the guts to approach when some very special items came in for the birthday celebration. She walked into his office with a timid smile and a paper package.

"So!" Joey looked her up and down, "Did we get them?"

Mrs. Rodriguez nodded, "Yes, sir, we got them!"

And out on the table she sat a lovely pair of Alice Angel statues. Both were molded in gold, and shone brilliantly under his office light. They, too, were made by Piedmont Industries, just as Joey's Bendy statue had been, so Joey had to ask someone else order them from the worksite. He did not want to contact Bertrum in the slightest.

"They're divine!" Joey breathed, leaning in to look at them, "Piedmont can get something right!"

"Absolutely darling, aren't they?" Mrs. Rodriguez chuckled uneasily, "I can't wait to see how Allison loves hers!"

Joey smacked his hands down on the desk, making his secretary jump, but then he grinned at her, "Allison deserves it, too! Never seen a woman work so hard in my life!"

Mrs. Rodriguez nodded sheepishly.

But then, something clicked in Joey's head. He gazed up at Mrs. Rodriguez. She gazed back at him, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

"Well, that's not true," Joey folded his arms over his desk, "You're a very hard worker, Rita. Very hard. My righthand woman."

Mrs. Rodriguez was at first wide-eyed, but then a relieved smile fell over her lips, "Thank you, sir."

"Do you like broaches?" he asked.

"Yes?" she blinked.

Joey reached down into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the damned box. Finally, he'd be rid of it, and it would go to someone who'd appreciate it.

"Then this!" he showed the velvet blue case to her, "Is for you!"

He then opened it, revealing the beautiful piece inside. It was more of a masculine piece, with less bling than the typical engagement ring, but his secretary didn't seem to mind. Her eyes glowed behind her glasses.

"S-sir!" she stuttered in shock.

"Please! Take it! As a token of my thanks," Joey's voice was as smooth as candy.

She let out a little squeal as she took the box and gazed at it. She held it like a baby, gazing down at its contents as if they were just as fragile as a newborn.

"Thank you so much!" she breathed.

"You are absolutely welcome!" Joey replied.

"I will wear it to work tomorrow!" she chirped, "I'll find an outfit that matches perfectly!"

Joey chuckled, "I have no doubt! You should wear it to the party later this month, too!"

She gasped, "You're right!"

She almost seemed to hop in place as she held it, her smile stretching the sides of her face. And that?  _ That was how you reacted to getting a present _ . Joey reveled in the positive energy she now radiated, and he even let a smile fall comfortably over his lips.

"But sir, this is wonderful, it's all wonderful!" she tapped the desk, next to where the new statues were, "They're perfect! And I cannot wait to see Allison get hers!"

"Neither can I!" Joey proclaimed, "But for now! This stays a secret, alright?"

Mrs. Rodriguez nodded intensely.

"Between us," Joey winked as he slid both statues into his desk and shut the drawer, "Right?"

"Right," she nodded again.

"Excellent," Joey smirked, "Now. You were never here."

"Yes!" she scurried towards the door, but turned before leaving, "Thank you again, sir! So much!"

"You're welcome!" and Joey watched her go with a big, stupid smile on his face.

Did he get easier on the rest of the staff? No, not really, but watching Mrs. Rodriguez skirt around the studio with that broach on her chest was enough to keep him going. He even saw her incorporate it into her hair as a hair piece!

"Brilliant!" he had told her.

"Thank you, sir," she smiled back.

The rest of the studio, meanwhile, wondered when they would get their peace and perhaps broaches of their own. Rumors spread, as they always did, but they were never accurate. Despite the broach and the smiles between Joey and his secretary, one man still hovered over Joey's thoughts, to the point his very visage felt like a trap in Joey's mind. He was angry at him. He was! Yet Joey couldn't escape the spark he felt, and he hated himself for it. He even flipped around a few bars during the weekend, flirting with the lonely dames just to try and break free, but to no avail.

But unbenounced to him, the man of his nightmares wasn't down and out.

One day, as Joey met with the Piedmont Industries representatives once more, he noticed the boys were a bit more antsy than normal. They exchanged glances, gazed behind themselves, and pursed their lips with worry. The meeting itself went on smooth as always, even with these strange behaviors, but Joey couldn't help it.

At the end of the meeting, he asked: "Is something wrong?"

Maurice fidgeted slightly before replying, "Mister Piedmont... Hates upset clients."

"There's nothing to be upset about!" Joey objected, "Everything is going swimmingly on-site, isn't it?"

"That's not why he's angry," Maurice muttered, "Ya see, Bert really wants to speak to ya, but apparently you're really mad at him, so he instructed us to bring you a present, a sort of tiding of good will?"

Joey blinked. Then, he snorted.

"And that's why you're nervous?"

"Well!" Maurice shrugged, "We've had some very angry clients, and based on what he got you, you must be super angry. He also wrote you a note with it, and he wanted to make sure we told ya."

"I'm not  _ that _ angry!" Joey laughed off the lie, "It's just a spat, nothing big!"

Even though Joey was still more than bitter about it.

Maurice and the boys seemed to relax. They slumped in their chairs and smiled a little bit more.

"Good! Then come on!" Maurice chirped.

They started to get up.

"What?" Joey asked, following suit, "Wait. Where are we going?"

"Outside!" Maurice held the door for him, "Like I said! We thought you were  _ really mad!" _

Joey's brow turned up in confusion as he piled into the elevator with the engineers. And, of course, the elevator descended, as always.

"... do you need help fixin this elevator?" one of the men asked.

"It's fine!" Joey smiled, "But thank you!"

"Alright!" the guy smiled back.

And the rest of the ride was silent. 

Joey's stomach churned. What on Earth could this posh bastard have gotten him? Some kind of massive statue? A horse dressed as Boris? This was ridiculous. No present could sway Joey's mind on how angry he was, and he sneered to himself with that stubborn rage as they reached the bottom floor.

However, as Joey followed the Piedmont employees, he noticed the administration had all crowded around one of the windows. They were whispering excitedly to one another as they gazed out towards something on the street.

"Is Piedmont himself out there?" Joey asked as they walked to the doors.

"No!" Maurice answered.

"Good," Joey growled.

Maurice once again held the door open as the other employees led Joey onto the sidewalk. The day outside was cooler, comfortable, and Joey sighed in content as he searched the street with his eyes.

The very first thing he noticed was a car. It was a very fanciful car, obviously foreign, with deluxe curves and a convertible top. It's striking red paint contrasted beautifully with the silver accents on both the exterior and interior of the vehicle, and the taupe leather on the inside was the height of luxury. There was no way that was even a common model of car; it had to be rare. That's how much it stuck out, as it was already longer than most of the other cars on the street.

"Who's car is that?" Joey asked.

"Yours!" Maurice replied.

Joey didn't really get his reply for a moment. He just stood there, nodding until the single word smacked him like an angry housewife. He then slowly turned to gaze up at Maurice.

"That's why we thought you were super angry!" Maurice explained, "There's only seven of those bad boys out in the world, you know?"

"Mine?" Joey croaked.

"Yeah!" Maurice motioned to the vehicle, "Its a Delahaye Narval! French!"

Joey glanced to the car, then back to Maurice, "MINE?"

"YEAH!"

_ "MINE?!"  _ Joey practically stumbled over to it, "Th-this, this, this car, is MINE?!"

"Yeah! Mr. Piedmont was adamant we get it to you today! He went through hell just to get it here!"

"IT WAS A BROACH!" Joey shouted at the car before whirling around to face his guests, "Maurice! Is a broach equivalent to a  _ rare French luxury car?" _

"... do you want us to take it back?" Maurice asked.

Joey threw himself over to the car door, "Absolutely NOT! IT'S MINE!"

And he scrambled into it like a kid on Christmas morning. He giggled like a mad scientist as his fingers hovered over the knobs, the radio, the wheel; it was all pristine and beautiful. Even that new car smell filled his nose like peppermint from a Christmas tree, and he got high off the very fumes. As he took a big, long whiff of what was now  _ his car,  _ he noticed an envelope on the dashboard. Thus, he pushed himself up, reached over, and retrieved the paper item.

"This must be the note."

He considered throwing it out the window. He considered ripping it to shreds. He considered taking it downstairs and feeding it to the thing he and Tom and locked up, but no, he couldn't do any of these things. Piedmont's employees were right there, so Joey begrudgingly opened the envelope to read what was inside.

_ Joey, _

_ I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. My privilege got in the way of the first very kind thing you've done for me, and I should not have been so entitled to you. That broach looked stunning, but at this point, I'm sure someone else has it and is enjoying it, so I won't hold that against you. Just know that I have never felt more embarrassed or ashamed for something so small, and that I am truly, wholly sorry. _

_ As a token of my apologies, I gave you my Delahaye Narval. It's a wonderful car, and it has very few miles on it! I barely got to drive it with how miserable my home is, so I hope you find much more use out of it than me. I hope you take long drives with it out into the countryside and find someone wonderful to take with you, to make every drive special, as that car deserves a larger-than-life man in it. And that man is definitely you. _

_ So please, enjoy it, and take this as my apology for being so rude. I hope to see you again soon. _

_ Warm regards, _

_ Bertrum P. _

Joey glared at the note. Then, he rolled down his window to look over at Maurice.

"How am I supposed to stay mad at a guy that got me a car?" Joey asked.

Maurice chuckled, "You're not?"

"Fuck," Joey smacked his hand on the wheel as he gazed back at the note, "Hey."

"Hmm?"

"September 28th," Joey told Maurice with a sigh, "Tell Bertrum he's invited to a party here on September 28th. Okay?"

"Yessir!" Maurice chirped, "He'll be so happy to hear that!"

"Yeah, yeah," Joey's voice dropped to a whisper as he gazed back at the note, "Maybe he is worth the shot."

"SIR? IS THAT YOUR CAR?"

Joey blinked and looked over to the administration, as they were all now watching him through the open window of Rita's office.

"Yeah!" Joey grinned.

"WOW!!!" one of the managers exclaimed.

Joey then noticed one more line on the bottom of the note.

_ P.S. I do hope this is a good substitute for promising to clean your car. _

"Yeah," Joey nodded, "Wow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I had to title this chapter Sugar Daddy, I couldn't help it, okay?_  
>  Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed the tried and true Piedmont Strategy of "wait until he calms down and buy him something." Next week will be the chapter Alice's birthday celebration, where we will get to see our lovebirds reunite, and it is ACTUALLY my birthday next Sunday!  
> But once again, I hope everyone had a good time, and I will see y'all next Tuesday! Bye!


	14. What Are We?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertrum goes to see Joey before the birthday party for Alice Angel, and it goes surprisingly well!

The September air was bitter, verging on a cold only reserved for the beginning of Fall. The leaves from New York City's sparse trees mixed in with the footsteps of its citizens as they tried to hide their faces from the breeze and the smoke of one another's cigarettes. Cars screamed at one another to move, people whispered secrets back and forth, and the very road squelched with the rain of the past days.

"Feels just like home," Bertrum mused to himself.

Most men would worry about making their potential significant others angry, but Bertrum wasn't one of those. His... "relationship" with Joey had brewed from hatred; shifted to mockery; and then plunged cake, jewelry, and expensive cars. There was absolutely  _ no way  _ Joey could still be angry about the broach at this point. Right?

One small part of Bertrum remained unsure.

He didn't really know Joey personally. He knew Joey was brattish and a cheapskate with his business, but how far did those behaviors extend into his personal life? It had to extend somewhat, right? But that broach was an expensive piece. And that cheesecake was delicious! Bertrum hoped there'd be a cheesecake at the party, although they'd probably have angel food cake, knowing the character the party was for.

A birthday party for a fictional character. What a bizarre concept.

Bertrum walked up the stairs to the studio and went through the front door. The waiting room and administration were as quiet as always, with the employees of the latter huddled over documents and typewriters. They all barely acknowledged his presence, save for the woman in the front.

"Hello, Mr. Piedmont!" she called, "Do you have an appointment?"

"No," Bertrum strolled over to her window, "I'd just like to speak with Joey."

"Mr. Drew is not in yet, but his office is open! You can head on up if you'd like. He doesn't have any appointments, so he should be free."

"Thank y-" Bertrum paused.

The broach.

_ It was in her hair. _

The ornate piece stood out beautifully against her black curls, and it accented her ponytail and green-rimmed glasses perfectly.

"Sir?" she asked.

"Did you get that from Joey?" Bertrum asked.

"Yes!" she chirped, "He was very happy to give it to me, isn't it beautiful?"

Bertrum feigned a smile, "Yes. It is. It looks wonderful on you."

"Oh!" she blushed and smiled back, "You're awful sweet, Mr. Piedmont!"

Bertrum nodded and started towards the stairs, "Thank you. Have a nice morning!"

"And the same to you!" she waved to him.

And he waved back as he stepped inside. He then pushed aside the idea that Joey could have something going on with that very woman and started up the stairs.

The ascension up was quiet, dark, yet oddly comforting. Bertrum could hear the studio working away thru the walls as he stepped up towards Joey's office, but the walls made him feel like he was looking through the glass. He could hear the arguments, the work, the struggle to make these silly cartoons, as if he was studying ants in an ant farm. It all seemed to fit together in some strange way, like this over exertion was of Joey's design.

But then, a new sound caught his ear. It crept up the stairs and tickled at his ears, bringing his body to a complete stop.

_ Skrrrrrch! Skrrrrrrrrrrrch! _

Scratching. Scratching that echoed from far down the stairwell. Someone must have left a door open, as the struggling noise was as clear and round as a person shouting up a question, and it echoed like a creature in a dark cave. Every draw of this thing's nails was inconsistent, ranging from a tiny  _ skrch  _ to a long  _ skrrrrrrch,  _ and Bertrum's heart raced with each new scratch.

"Just a badger," Bertrum continued up the stairs, "Better tell Joey later."

He knew that wasn't a badger. There was  _ no way _ that scratches  _ that loud  _ were anything smaller than a bear, but he didn't want to consider what it could be. Instead, he began to run up the stairs. His heavy shoes punched down on the wood below them, propelling him up and away from the horrifying scratches. He bared his teeth, trying to tell himself it was nothing, but his heart refused to slow down. When he got to the top, he grabbed Joey's doorhandle, leapt through the doorframe, and slammed the door behind him as if he were being chased.

Bertrum had worked at countless forest sites, bulldozing and chopping away the land for projects and clients. He had heard badgers, bears, hummingbirds, the entire forest; but that scratching wasn't any of those.

"You're working yourself up over nothing," he told himself as he hung up his coat and entered the office, "It's probably just machinery! Nothing to worry about."

But his instincts said otherwise.

He slumped in the chair across from Joey's desk with a sigh.

The office felt... Dead without Joey in it. Perhaps Bertrum was just used to meeting Joey there, but there was still a somber air that hung over the room without the boss present. The cabinets seemed to be shadowed, the ceiling darkened, and the desk seemed to shrink back at Bertrum's presence.

Bertrum lightly smacked himself a few times, attempting to shake off the uneasy feeling.

"Get yourself together," he glared around the room, "It's just an office. There's nothing wrong here."

But then, he noticed Joey's desk was not as cowardly as he previously thought. There was a navy blue paper bag on it, and it was stuffed with baby blue tissue to hide its contents. Bertrum stood up, walked to the edge of the desk, and peaked over, attempting to see what was inside. Of course, all he saw was the tissue paper, crinkly yet full as it covered even the interior of the bag. He then turned, ready to sit back down, but his eye caught something else.

It was Joey's supply closet. The door was ajar, just to the point he could see past the old wood and spy numerous small bags that resembled the one of the desk. Gift bags, striped, and each had a plume of tissue paper sticking out the top. Bertrum stepped over and opened the door another crack, revealing eight different bags. They were all stashed away, like the high school secrets you try to repress in your 20s, and Bertrum's eyes grew wide as he considered their purpose.

"Are these for me?" he whispered.

Could the broach have been one of these? Of course, these bags could be for someone else, but Bertrum's ego didn't even consider that as an option.

But then, he heard the elevator rattling; someone was coming. He moved the door a crack back and dashed over to the chair, flopping into it as if he had never left. He even started playing with his watch, trying to look bored.

Behind him, he heard the iron gates of the elevator screech open, and a pair of loafers stopped at the office door.

"Oh!" Joey chirped, "You're already here!"

"Yes," Bertrum smiled to Joey as the latter walked in, "I wanted to talk some before the party."

Joey sat his bag beside his desk as he gazed at Bertrum, his eyes strained in confusion.

Bertrum elaborated,"I wanted to formally apologize, to you."

Joey snorted, "Didn't the car do that?"

"So you like it?"

"Fuck you, I love it."

Bertrum laughed.

"It purrs like a cat on Christmas morning and runs like a Cheetah," Joey gazed out the window, presumably towards wherever his car was, "I took it out this weekend, on to the ridge, and looked over the city. It was fantastic."

"Did you bring it to work?" Bertrum asked.

"I don't trust the city with my car."

"Fair enough."

Joey did seem to be back to normal. He radiated the energy of a man whose affections could be bought, but his affections did seem to have a more personal root.

"It's wonderful to have you here early though!" Joey chirped, reaching for the bag on the desk, "That means I can give you this!"

He then trotted over to Bertrum's side, handing him the bag.

"I was curious!" Bertrum took it from him, "Thank you."

"If you already have it, I'm going to throw you out the window."

Bertrum snickered. He reached for the tissue paper, but Joey's words cut him off.

"But Bertrum?"

"Hmm?" Bertrum smiled up at him.

Joey gazed back to him, his brow furrowed in concentration, "What are we?"

Bertrum pondered this. They were definitely  _ something.  _ You don't just buy your business partner a broach. Or a cake.  _ Or a goddamn car.  _ You don't lovingly tease your business partner with pet names, and you definitely don't show up early to his work to talk with him about personal matters. And you absolutely do not keep buying him presents. Eight of them, apparently.

Bertrum gave a single nod as he came to an answer, "Let's not label it."

".. what?"

"Let's not label it," Bertrum leaned back, "We're adults. We can decide what we feel. We don't need to be "dating" or a "couple." Those kind of labels will only bind our emotions."

For a moment, Joey just stared at him. His blue eyes and blonde hair caught the sun peaking through the window, and all Bertrum could do was stare. It was strange that such an ass could be so naturally gorgeous. He had a natural charm that oozed out like a contagion, and anyone that was infected was kept in his grasp. Bertrum could only imagine how many of the women in that building watched Joey when he strolled around the studio, gawking and whispering about how handsome he was. And the most attractive part of it all was that Joey  _ knew it. _

But then, his day dreaming was cut off by Joey's chuckle. This chuckle quickly evolved into a full-blown belly laugh, as Joey knocked his head back and cackled to the ceiling.

"That is the most pretentious, rich bastard bullshit I've ever heard!" Joey said, "I can't believe I agree with that bullshit!"

"Exactly! Do you really wanna call yourself my "boyfriend?" " Bertrum asked.

"No!" Joey laughed, heading to his chair, "It's husband or nothing."

Bertrum's heart stopped. Everything seemed to stop besides Joey as he sat down across from Bertrum.

"What?"

"Open your gift!"

"What?"

"You heard me!" Joey grinned like a wolf, "It's husband. Or nothing."

Bertrum's cheeks became hot as embers, "You want to marry me?"

"I'm just saying it's a possibility," Joey cooed.

"Joey, we-we can't even get married!" Bertrum was trying to keep from slurring his words.

"Someone can do it! We can wear rings! Who cares?!" Joey shrugged, "Now, come on! Open your gift!!"

Bertrum flailed his arms, his mind and heart racing, "YOU CAN'T JUST SAY MARRIAGE AND NOT EXPECT ME TO DWELL ON IT."

"WELL, WHAT IF I THINK YOU'RE MARRIAGE MATERIAL?!" Joey asked.

"JOEY, we haven't even confirmed if we LIKE EACH OTHER."

"YOU BOUGHT ME A CAR. I KEEP BUYING YOU SHIT. I THINK THAT'S CONFIRMATION."

Bertrum threw the question out: "So we  _ are _ romantic?"

"I think so!"

"I do too!"

"Okay!"

"Alright!"

"Good!"

"Sure!"

"Fine!"

And then they just stared at one another. Joey's cheeks were now dusted with a pink blush, and Bertrum felt like his face was on fire.

"Open your present," Joey broke eye contact, gazing at the wall with a pout.

Bertrum threw the tissue paper out of the bag as if it were going to disappear the second it left his hand. The pieces fell to the floor around him, scattering like wasted napkins.

At the bottom of the box, with a black felt exterior, was a tie box.

"It's not a car!" Joey spat, "And I don't know how the fuck I'm gonna ever get close to that! But. It's useful."

Bertrum picked up the box and carefully opened it, revealing a black tie with a gold halo pattern stitched into the fabric. Every halo was meticulously stitched, with every oval elongated to resemble a halo from a front perspective.

"You should wear it today," Joey muttered.

"It's lovely," Bertrum breathed, "Thank you!'

"You're welcome."

"Could you help me put it on?"

Joey's head snapped over, "You ass, I was going to offer."

Bertrum snorted.

Joey practically jumped over his desk to get over to Bertrum. He didn't even ask; he started slipping Bertrum's tie off with his own stubby, chubby fingers. He was so close that Bertrum could smell the coffee he had drank that morning, and it was almost intoxicating. His hands wanted to grab that tie and pull at that suit, like an anxious teen after prom, but he wasn't an anxious teen. He was an adult, and he would respect Joey's space.

But Joey Drew has no respect for anyone's space. He leaned down, concentrating on the tie as his sweaty fingers fumbled with the fabric, and Bertrum's face just got redder as he felt Joey's lips only inches from his own. The two words sat on the edge of Bertrum's lips: "kiss me." Joey's eyes flicked up and met his. Bertrum's eyes were concentrated on Joey's. They just stared at one another, their lips threatening to touched at any second. Bertrum's hand even lifted up from his side, ready to grab Joey's tie and pull him in.

But then, the elevator clanged from beyond the office door.

Bertrum froze, Joey jumped back, and they both started to panic. Bertrum scrambled, picking up the tissue paper from the floor and stuffing it back into the box, and Joey sat down behind his desk, trying to shake his blush away. With trembling hands, Bertrum tried to tighten his tie, but ended up just pushing it back up into a mess. Surely whoever was coming up wouldn't notice, right? Right?!

As the elevator reached their floor, Bertrum set the bag on the floor and spoke.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Drew!"

"Of course! I'm sure that, from now on, these communication problems will be nothing but memories!"

"Agreed, very much so!"

And...  _ Sammy Lawrence _ stomped in. Bertrum glanced over to Sammy as if he were an alien, and to be fair, his scrunched-up face was almost inhuman.

"DO WE HAVE TO USE THE PERFORMANCE HALL FOR THESE STUPID PARTIES?!" he roared.

"Jesus," Bertrum whispered.

"FIRST OF ALL, it is NOT A HALL," Joey spat, "It is a large room that is perfect for recording music and HOSTING. PARTIES."

"We are behind schedule!" Sammy smacked the desk with his hands, "And you make that worse by having a PARTY? IN THE MIDDLE OF MY WORK?!"

_ "SAMMY, WE HAVE A! GUEST!" _

Sammy paused. Then, he gazed back and met Bertrum's eyes.

"You're both red heads and it's scaring me," Joey muttered.

"Hello," Sammy turned and extended his hand as if he hadn't been screaming two seconds ago, "I'm Sammy Lawrence. Head of the music department."

"... hello?" Bertrum shook his hand.

"And I am employed by a boss who REFUSES to let me work in PEACE!" Sammy spun back around to face Joey.

And they started arguing again.

Bertrum sighed, leaning back in his chair and taking his tie off the rest of the way. Even through the screaming, he saw Joey stealing glances at him. Bertrum smirked as he pulled the new tie around his neck and perfectly knotted it, letting it fall down his chest as he listened to them fuss.

He had no idea what just happened. That was a lot of emotions at once, let alone some feelings he'd never felt before, and Joey was obviously new to them too, as his blush indicated.

Marriage material.

"Holy shit," Bertrum mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT ARE THEY? They still don't know. All they know is they wanna kiss one another, and that Joey is very serious about this.  
> Come and join me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/your_narrator13?s=09) if you're bored, or shoot me a message on my [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/your_narrator13) if you wanna chat!  
> Anyway, see you guys next week for the party! Thanks for reading 😘


	15. Happy Birthday Alice Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertrum is without Joey.  
> In the Studio.  
> Amongst the employees.  
>  _What will he learn?_

It was a quarter past one. "It'll be the entire afternoon!" Joey mused, "So don't be shy!" Bertrum had never seen himself as a shy person, yet being in this party made him feel like an alien walking in on an awkward human date.

When Sammy said Joey was taking "the hall," apparently he meant the entire Music Department, as you were met by decorations the second the elevator met that floor. The halls were decorated with streamers lining the ceilings, and halos taped to the walls. Alice Angel cutouts stood at every turn, judging you for your sins. The actual party room had the character painted on the walls very sloppily by a probably now-exhausted animation department, and even the instruments were draped in Alice Angel blankets. Every employee was wearing one of three things: Bendy horns, Boris ears, or an Alice halo. It was all quite surreal. Bertrum felt like he was eight again, being made to attend Hannah's stupid themed parties. Hannah Foxborough always had the worst themed parties when he was a kid, and she always had to ride in on a pony when the party started.

_ The bitch, _ Bertrum remembered his childhood self snapping.

To feel the least amount of ridiculous, he chose to wear an Alice halo. Of course, it matched his tie too, so that was a plus.

Every department seemed to form their own clique around the floor, whispering and glancing at the other departments. The Music Department in particular seemed very withdrawn, as they all huddled in a room next to the projector's booth.

"Hey!"

Bertrum looked up and saw Sammy. His fellow redhead wore Bendy horns on top of his dark red pompadour.

"Get up here!"

"Me?" Bertrum asked.

"No! Him!" Sammy pointed towards Bertrum's right.

Bertrum gazed down and saw a stumpy little man carrying a glass of water. The man seemed very young, with a full, youthful face and bright eyes. His short chestnut hair curled around his face, framing it wonderfully, and his neat, pressed attire made him look as if he liked coming to work, which was an oddity in this crowd. Atop his head he wore a halo too! A man of the Angels, apparently.

"In a second!" the man snapped with a slightly nasally voice.

Sammy rolled his eyes.

The man then turned to Bertrum with an oddly cheery smile, "Hi! Are you new here?"

"Uh," Bertrum paused, "No, but. I don't work in this building."

"Oh!" the other nodded, "That makes sense

Well, I'm Jack Fain! I'm usually stuck downstairs, so I don't get to see a lot!"

He chuckled as he stuck out his hand.

"It's a pleasure," Bertrum took his hand kindly, "Bertrum Piedmont."

Jack blinked, "Holy guacamole my name is like. 5 years less cool than yours is."

Bertrum laughed.

"Bertrum Piedmont versus. Jack Fain! ... yeah, there's no contest," Jack snickered.

How did Joey find employees with so much personality? Bertrum had never felt such a fast and kind connection in a client's workplace.

"So what do you do  _ Jack Fain?" _ Bertrum asked.

"I'm a lyricist!" he chirped, "I write the lyrics for Sammy's songs! I usually work downstairs so that I can have the peace to write, it gets real noisy up here."

"A lyricist!" Bertrum nodded, "And I can imagine. I met your. Boss?"

"Sammy?" Jack smirked, "He's alright. He squawks a lot, but he knows his songs!"

"That's go-"

"I just wish he'd do them faster."

Bertrum snorted.

"But what about you?" Jack returned the question, "What do you do?"

"I. Am," Bertrum thought it over, "Working on a large project with Joey. I'm certain he'll tell you and yours about it at some point, but I'm not sure if I'm allowed to speak about it."

"Ohhh!" Jack nodded, "Well uh. Then I gotta ask..."

"... what?" Bertrum mumbled.

"... is he paying you?" Jack asked.

"OH, yes, yes!" Bertrum nodded, "We've had meetings, there is cashflow."

"Oh good!" Jack chuckled, "Because the last guy was not happy."

Bertrum perked up.  _ Last guy? _

"What guy?"

Jack glanced around before whispering just loud enough for Bertrum to hear: "At one of these character parties, one of Joey's partners got super angry at him because they hadn't been paid yet! I think his name was Briar."

"Wait, you mean the Briar? Of Briar's Soup?!" Bertrum asked.

"Yeah! And I heard he threatened to off Joey if he didn't get paid! And with the amount of money he's got, I'm pretty sure he could, ya know?" Jack pursed his lips, "Just sayin."

"Ye. Yeah," Bertrum's brow furrowed.

Joey had a type. Even if he wasn't romantically involved with Briar, Joey did seem to latch on to rich men for his needs. Investors, Briar, and now Bertrum; this entire building ran on old money.

And that's when Bertrum realized it. While here, in this party, he could get  _ every scoop on Joey possible.  _ Joey himself wasn't here! He was showing investors his progress with that other project, with the studio; he wasn't here to stand in the way! Bertrum grinned.

"Does he have any other blemishes?" he asked.

"Oh, I am not the guy for that information," Jack shook his head, "But I do know the one that is! He isn't a big talker though, so you're gonna need a lot of luck if you wanna talk to him. There are other guys and gals that'll tell you stuff too, of course, but they're not as.  _ Informed." _

Bertrum then had another stray thought.

"... are all of you constantly watching one another?"

"I don't," Jack's eyes flipped up with purpose, past Bertrum's head to somewhere else in the room, "But a lot of us do."

Bertrum followed his gaze and saw a man, sitting alone up in the projector booth. Bertrum wouldn't have noticed him if Jack hadn't pointed him out, as the man's very form and skin sunk back into the shadows of the booth. He wore a dark brown newsboy cap on top of his head, hiding both his hair and his eyes, and a pair of black suspenders and a nice white dress shirt adorned his thin yet muscular form. As he sat there, he flicked at the parts of the projector that sat on the table next to him, as if the party down below wasn't real.

"But you didn't hear that from me."

Bertrum turned back to Jack and nodded.

"JACK!" Sammy's squawk was louder than anyone at the party.

"I'm coming!" Jack snapped back, "Anyway, it was super nice to meet you, Mr. Piedmont!"

"Oh, no, please! Call me Bertrum!" Bertrum smiled.

And Jack smiled too, "Alright, Bertrum! I'll see ya!"

"See you, Jack."

And Jack made his way out of the room.

Bertrum stood for a moment, considering his options. He didn't want to approach the figure in the booth just yet; that was a project for later. For now, he would peruse the party floor, see what he could learn.

As he floated from clique to clique, he was surprised to find how open they were. While the employees didn't want to talk to other cliques, Bertrum seemed to be an outlier, as they spilled any information he asked for. If they didn't know, they would point to the department that would. It was a surprising wealth of information.

And what he learned? It made him a little paranoid.

Joey was very much a... Player, as one of the younger writers had called him. Apparently many of the women around this studio had been hit on by their boss, and he offered them gifts. Gifts, dinners, sweet hand kisses, Joey had swept many of them off their feet, and then  **_dropped them like lead weights when he was done with them._ ** Some of these women showed great resentment.

"I wish I could quit," one of the advertisers sighed, "But the pay here is too good to leave. Joey Drew is a crook that shouldn't be around women."

But others seemed less hurt.

"He's really a sweet guy," a voice actress grinned, "He's just not my type. And when I told him, he was perfectly okay with it!"

"Who is your type?" one of the other girls giggled at her.

"Bethany! Shush!"

But then some just. Left. One voice actress was actually removed from a leading roll because Joey didn't like her. Whether or not that reason ran deeper emotionally was up to rumors, but it didn't help Bertrum's concern.

Because based on his own experiences with Joey, Bertrum's own tale wasn't too different so far.

Joey was buying him things. Sure, he bought Joey things in return, but Joey's tactics were very oddly similar to how he played with these women.

_ And Bertrum did not like that. _

Thus, he made his final move: he had to find the projectionist.

Bertrum strided out into the hall and looked for the staircase to the projector's booth-

"Hey!"

He jumped.

"Oh! Sorry, just lookin for the desserts!"

A man with dusty blonde hair stood just a few feet away. Freckles decorated his pale cheeks, and small specks of what looked like cake surrounded his thin pink lips. The man was adorable, and Bertrum couldn't help but grin.

"I ain't seen you before!" the man grinned, "What's your name?"

"Bertrum Piedmont. I'm a business partner of Joey's," Bertrum lent out his hand.

"Pleased ta meetcha!" the man took his hand and gave it a hardy shake, "I'm Wally Franks!"

"It's a pleasure!" Bertrum's grin grew into a smile.

"These parties are only good for one thing, Mistah Piedmont!" Wally chirped, "And that's some good food. Everybody else just wants to gossip and chit chat, but why focus on that when there's so much to eat?"

"That's," Bertrum thought about it, "Actually a good point. I'll need to grab some food later."

"All I'm sayin is I don't gotta work, and instead I get to eat home cooked food all afternoon! What else would anyone wanna do?" Wally headed towards the door, "It was nice to meet ya!"

Bertrum blinked, "Wait-"

"See ya later!"

And Wally was gone.

Bertrum wasn't sure if that was a fever dream or just a strange man, but nonetheless he pressed on. He was going to meet the man in the protection booth.

All it took was a look around for Bertrum to find the staircase that led up to his destination. He made a hairpin turn and strolled up the stairs, slowly yet casually, to a surprisingly closed door.

"Hello?" he knocked.

No answer, but the door slightly swung open at his hand meeting it's old, dark wood. He peered through the crack, and...

"What?"

No one was there.

Bertrum made his way in. No, surely he was going mad. He would've seen the man go by if he left the booth! He would've heard his footsteps! Something! Bertrum looked at the panels on the wall, the drawers in the desk, but there was nothing!

"How did he get out?!" Bertrum whispered the booth.

"He just does!"

Bertrum jumped again, and Wally stood before him once more..

"I gotcha a snack!" Wally stuck his hand forward, showing-off a plate piled with horderves.

"T-thanks," Bertrum took the plate, "Wha-"

"And a drink!" Wally handed him a glass of lemonade.

"... thank you," Bertrum took the glass and had a sip, "Oh that's lovely."

"It's Susie's recipe, of course it's lovely!" Wally chirped.

"Wally, what do you do here?" Bertrum asked, "Why aren't you down there?"

Wally stuffed his face with a tiny sandwich before replying, "I'm the janitor! I clean up their messes and tinker with the machine pipes!"

No wonder Wally wasn't down at the party; he didn't fit into those cliques. And the projectionist probably didn't wither.

Bertrum perked up, "I see."

"How long you been workin for Mistah Drew?" Wally asked.

"About half a year," Bertrum answered.

"... huh."

Bertrum gazed over, "What?"

Wally took a seat on the projector's desk, "I'm curious: do you know what's up with him? He's been actin real strange for the same amount of time you've been having meetings! And I had a feelin that was connected."

"How," Bertrum narrowed his eyes, "How do you think that's connected?"

"I got a sense about these things!" Wally tapped his own head, "Ya see, I wipe off the meeting boards every day, and your name has been on 'em since Joey started actin weird!"

Bertrum blinked, "Those are some impressive observation skills."

"Thank ya! But do you know what's goin on?" Wally stabbed three cheese cubes with one toothpick and stuck them all into his mouth.

Bertrum was then reminded to eat his own sandwich. It was a ham and cheese, nothing special, but the bread was quite delicious.

He gulped down his first bite before replying, "Yes. Joey and I have a... Stressing relationship. A strange project, weird emotions. Trying to figure things out."

Wally shook his head, "But Joey's been actin like he's having a problem with his wife, not like-"

Bertrum almost spit out his sandwich.

"-oh, you okay?"

Bertrum gulped down his food, "Joey isn't married, is he?!"

"Nah! I'm just sayin, whatever is weighing on him is as heavy as an unhappy wife! And I've never seen him like that!"

"Good lord, all this marriage talk," Bertrum ate the last bite of his sandwich.

"He's never been so... Into whatever's been ticking him off! He nearly killed me with the elevator!"

Bertrum's eyes shot open as his head snapped over to look at Wally.

Wally elaborated, "N-not on purpose."

"Jesus," Bertrum cupped all of the cheese cubes into his hand at once and shoved them into his own mouth.

"Listen, all I'm sayin is whatever is between the two of you, Joey's got a lot riding on it! He's real nervous and excited about it! I've been workin here since I was a kid, and I ain't never seen him like this!"

Bertrum actually grinned, even if slightly. He even gave a relieved nod. Wally had no idea how much those words meant after what Bertrum heard that day.

Wally wasn't done though, "But!"

Bertrum looked over.

"If something goes too wrong between the two of you and I'm in the way of the elevator again? I'm outta here!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I GOT TO END THIS CHAPTER WITH "I'M OUTTA HERE!" BEST CHAPTER YET!  
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing minor characters talking with Bertrum, who himself is SUPER MINOR in BATIM. I wanna get more interaction between other characters that never interact in the canon, but we'll see if that actually happens.  
> Nonetheless, if you enjoyed, why not stop by my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/your_narrator13?s=09) and see what's up there, or drop a comment here or at my[Curious Ca!t](https://curiouscat.me/your_narrator13)  
> Thanks for reading ❤ see ya next week!


	16. The First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are actually going well for the first time in Joey Drew's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4.14! A Bendy holiday through and through, I am SO HAPPY to be posting this at the end of such a day!

Joey sighed as he watched the investors go. They all seemed pretty happy! For once. Hearing how he prioritized the park over the machine seemed to give them more confidence, and they ogled over Bertrum's sketches for what seemed like years. When Joey had the pleasure of telling them they were even on-schedule with construction, the investors' eyes lit up like Christmas trees. It was one of the best tours that the studio had had in a very long time.

They even wore the little headbands from the party! Out into public, as they got into their cars! Joey felt a sense of pride in that incidental public display as he watched them go from the closed front doors. He himself even wore a pair of Bendy horns on his head, and as he smirked at their leaving cars, he even resembled the Little Devil Darling.

"Haha," he mused to himself, "I've still got it!"

The studio was definitely going to get more money, and Joey practically skipped to the elevator with that thought in his mind. He whistled a Bendy tune as he called the elevator up, stepped into it, and ascended towards his office. His voice carried down the elevator shift, down to the party.

"DREW!" he heard someone yell.

Cheers followed, probably because they knew Joey was in a good mood. Joey grinned, whistling louder just so they could hear.

Then, the elevator reached his floor, and he stepped out and towards his office. He strolled around to his desk, and put on his best female voice.

"I'm Alice Angel!" he joked as he pulled out one of the gold Alice statues, "And I'm gonna look great with Miss Pendell! Oh, she'll love me! I'm simply divine!"

Joey paused.

"... I really gotta stop talking to myself," he muttered in his normal tone.

And he went back to the elevator.

The party itself was still going strong. The employees of Joey Drew Studios took any form of a break with great appreciation, and this party was no different, as they kept finding new conversations to keep themselves entertained and at the party. No one wanted to go home, and no one wanted to go back to work. Even as Joey entered the scene, everything seemed to be going more than smoothly.

"Drew!"

A chorus of "Drews" flew across the floor, and Joey grinned ear-to-ear as he made his way through. He shook some hands as he made his way towards the party hall, his charisma alone bringing the party to a higher volume.

"HEY!" he called into the hall.

Cheers followed.

"Simmer down now, simmer!" Joey yelled as he made his way into the room, "We have some wonderful news! Get everyone in here, come on!"

He stood up on one of the orchestra chairs as his staff gathered around him. People flooded in from the entire floor, coming just to hear him speak. Joey looked out, across their wide eyes and silly headwear, and smiled with pride at each and every one of them. He even saw Bertie standing among them, his green eyes flickering in the dull light.

And that made Joey smile even wider.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Today, I have great news!" the room was dead silent as he spoke, "The investors were in today, and from what the sketches they saw and the work we've done? They're more than ecstatic! They're elated, my friends!"

Murmurs of surprised glee rippled through the crowd.

"The newest cartoons are really tickling their fancy, especially the police episode! One of the wives cooed at how sweet little Bendy looks in a uniform! They're very happy with production time, with visual quality, with sound and editing; they're just giddy all around! The right direction is up, and we seem to be soaring up now more than ever! And I'm thankful to all of you for that. If I have no one to lead, what's the point in my leadership? If you have no talent, what can we make? Every new Bendy episode is another tally in our portfolio, and that portfolio is brighter than ever because of your hardwork and dedication!"

The crowd got slightly louder, whispering and smiling to one another.

"Now, to symbolize this new milestone, I have a big announcement! And!" he held up the Alice statue, "A big award!"

The crowd gazed up with shining eyes.

"We have a recent newcomer to the crew, someone who's really put the work in. She's always singing and speaking her heart out, pushing the line between fantasy and reality with her immortal voice. We all know her, the sunflower of the studio! Ally! Where are you, my dear?"

She emerged from the crowd, her face red as a tomato and her eyes beaming. She walked on to the orchestra platform, her plastic halo bouncing with each step.

"Look at our Angel!" Joey gestured to her, "Ally, you've done so much for Alice. You've evolved her into a presence, not only in the cartoons, but in our studio! And I think I speak for everyone when I say we are more than thankful for your hard work!"

"Thank you so much, Mister Drew!" she brought her hands up to her cheeks, "I don't know what to say!"

"You say more than enough in that booth over there!" Joey pointed over to the recording booth, "And that's all we need!"

"Thank you!" she chirped again.

Joey handed the Alice statue down to her, and she gazed at it with sparkling eyes. She then wandered back into the crowd, zombified by the weight of holding so much gold in her hands.

"Next! I have an announcement!" Joey was stupidly giddy as he spoke, "We here at the studio have been working on a secret project, but it's gotten so big that I just can't keep it a secret anymore! The investors are thrilled, I'm thrilled, and you're gonna be thrilled too! So, to tell you about this endeavor, I am going to invite my friend up here! Unprompted! Unprepared! We didn't plan on announcing this, but I just can't keep it to myself anymore! I know he'll kick my ass later, but I don't care!"

The crowd laughed, half-shocked and half-amused by Joey's momentary break in character.

"Give it up for our esteemed guest, Bertrum Piedmont!"

The crowd applauded as Bertie made his way up towards Joey. Although his brow was furrowed, he still wore a wide grin, and Joey grinned right back as he jumped off the chair.

Bertie took his place on the chair, standing high above the crowd as he began to introduce Bendyland. Sure, Joey should've been looking at his employees and gauging their reactions, but he couldn't pull his eyes off Bertie. The way he spoke to a crowd was mesmerizing, essentially because he was no different when he spoke to a group compared to a single person. Very approachable, yet professional, he spoke to the crowd as if they had been working together for years, and Joey was pulled in to him, just as he always was. For one man to have that level of charm and not even mean to use it was wild to Joey's mind. Honorable, almost. That charm was just a part of Bertie.

And Joey loved him for it.

The party went on for another couple hours after that. A large crowd now formed around Bertie, asking him every question under the sun about the park and it's designer, and Bertie answered them all with smiles and chuckles. Joey tried desperately to get to him on numerous occasions, but the crowd was too persistent.

So he waited for the party to end.

And it was like. 7pm when it finally did. People started making their way out the front door, laughing and chattering as they went to either their cars or the bar across the street. The party had been more than a success!

A wave of relief swept over Joey as he trotted towards Bertie.

"Hey!" Joey said.

"Hello!" Bertie replied.

"Did you have fun?" Joey asked with a tone of desperation, "Did you get bored?"

"There is no boredom with your staff, Joey!" Bertie chuckled, "You've collected a large group of ornery characters, that's for sure."

Joey sighed, "That's good! Good, good."

They both stood, alone, in the music hall. Plates and empty cups littered the floor and instruments, and the smell of fruit punch filled the air.

"How are you?" Bertie asked.

"I'm fucking fantastic!" Joey exclaimed, "The investors loved you."

Bertie laughed, "I never met them!"

"But they wanted to see everything you drew, all the schematics and designs! They were drooling over your work!"

"I expect nothing less," Bertie crossed his arms as he smirked.

"Arrogant ass," Joey muttered.

"At least they're not trying to correct me-"

"I thought! We were past that!" Joey rolled his eyes.

Bertie laughed. Joey couldn't help but laugh with him.

"Seriously though, I hate to admit this, but," Joey crossed his arms tight and pouted, "Part of why they're so happy is you."

Bertie blinked.

"The detail and articulation of your outlines were. Impeccable to them. They asked me questions I could only answer because of how much you and I talk."

Bertrum started to speak, "Joseph, I told you! I'm the best in the-"

But Joey dropped a bombshell: "You just saved my studio, Bertrum."

Bertrum paused, "... what?"

"They want to give me more money," Joey met his gaze, "They are so excited about your efficiency and your imagination that. They want to collectively give us an additional one hundred thousand dollars to work with. Every month. For both the studio and the park."

Bertie's mouth parted slightly, "... wha-"

But Joey just hugged him. He couldn't stop it! His arms clinged to him, holding him as close as he could.

The machine.

The park.

His employees.

They could all stay.

"Our numbers were going down, Bertie. That's why I had to choose between you and another project. I've had to move money around for years just to keep my ideas afloat. My machine, my employees, my park-"

"My park."

"-our park, I. I couldn't pay for it all."

Bertie hugged him back.

"By the end of this year, I would have had to start laying people off," Joey admitted, nuzzling into Bertie's neck, "You saved me. You saved them. You saved  _ us." _

Bertie's hold tightened around Joey.

"... I'm very glad I could, then."

Then, Joey felt something press against his hair. It was short, firm, and sweet: a kiss.

Bertie had just kissed his head.

"Then Joey."

"Hm?" Joey closed his eyes tight.

"Why did you ask for me to make you two statues out of pure gold?"

Joey's brow furrowed, "I'm. Not great with money, shut up."

Bertrum chuckled, kissing Joey's head again.

Joey snickered, "See why you're marriage material now?"

Bertie laughed. Joey laughed with him, pulling his head up just so he could press his forehead to Bertie's. They laughed together, their eyes closed and their smiles glowing.

Joey opened his eyes first, still grinning.

Then Bertie did too.

They gazed into one another's eyes for a long, quiet moment. Their arms stayed locked around one another, their chests pressed together and their hands locked behind one another's back.

Their breaths mixed between them.

"Heh," Joey whispered.

Bertie snorted, "So, glad you chose me?"

Joey pouted once more, "Shut up."

Bertie leaned closer, and Joey met him halfway as their lips finally met. First contact was soft, as their lips gently brushed past one another, but that one sliver of contact shot Joey's heart rate up fast. He pulled his arms back just enough to hold Bertie's toned waist, and his heart leapt as Bertie's arms tightened around Joey's own waist. From there, the kisses became hungry, possessive, as both of them leaned into the other with desire. They swayed back and forth as they pushed in to one another, their lips moving faster and harder with every passing second, sucking and slipping. Joey's mind had become nothing but static as he stood on cloud nine, kissing  _ the _ handsome, snarky rich man that was building his park and saving his studio.  _ Goddamn  _ did it feel amazing. This man was  _ his. GODDAMN. _

And then, they both pulled apart. Their foreheads met once more. Joey realized his lungs were screaming and took in a deep breath, and he wasn't surprised when Bertie did the same.

"Bloody hell," Bertie mumbled.

"Fuck," Joey replied.

They both panted slightly.

"I haven't kissed anyone like that since... Since I was young! Twenty-something!" Bertie gasped.

"I haven't enjoyed kissing like that since I was twenty-something," Joey slightly nodded.

They kept panting.

"Again?" Joey asked.

Bertie nodded, "God yes."

And their lips met once more. It truly felt like Joey was in his twenties again, sneaking around the studio with a new intern and messing around with them. He fondly remembered having meetings with Mr. Stein, talking about this or that, and his employee asking why his hair was messed If, or what had happened to the knot in his tie. Nowadays, he couldn't afford to look so disheveled without a responsible reason, but he really wished he could.

They pulled away once more, panting again.

Bertie's face was as red as his hair, and Joey chuckled at the sight. His heart had never felt more full. His studio was safe, his finances were safe, his relationship was safe. He hadn't felt so secure and aware of his life in literal years. The immense amount of comfort inspired him.

It inspired him to show Bertie something.

"Hey."

Bertie met his eyes.

"I want to show you something," Joey whispered.

"What?" Bertie whispered back.

Joey smirked, oozing with confidence, "It's called the Ink Machine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didja enjoy the chapter? They finally kissed! It only took! 15 chapters!! Ahh I had so much fun with this chapter, finally bringing them together like this was so fun ;u;  
> But next week. The Ink Machine.  
> Stay tuned to see what happens next 👀 see you then!


	17. I Need Proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How hard could it be to explain to your significant other that you have a magical ink machine that can create life?  
> ... really hard.

The studio was much darker without the bustling of a busy work day. Every creak of the floor rang through the empty halls, and the groaning walls seemed to be at Bertrum's back, following his every step. He kept his walk brisk, trying to keep his eyes focused on Joey, who led him forward with their hands intertwined. Joey would occasionally glance back and flash Bertrum a grin, but even his charm couldn't fight off the sinking feeling in Bertrum's stomach.

Something was wrong here.

Something was very wrong.

Bertrum thought back to earlier that day, when he was walking up to Joey's office. Back to the eerie scratching noise that chased him up the stairs, and that definitely wasn't helping his mood.

Joey led him to a door. A locked door. He let go of Bertrum's hand, leaving his lover even more concerned as he pulled out a small silver key.

"Lovers," Bertrum muttered.

Joey glanced up.

"We should be called lovers," Bertrum said.

Joey grinned even wider. His clammy hands reached up and took Bertrum's face before giving him a short, powerful kiss.

"Fantastic!" and Joey took the small key to open the door.

They both walked into a small, damp storage closet. While Bertrum's suspicions were rising, Joey was giddy as he started moving some boxes at the back of the closet.

"Help me out, wouldja?" Joey chirped.

"Sure," and Bertrum started moving boxes with him.

Eventually, a large hole in the wall was revealed. Just large enough for a grown man to push through. Tom would probably struggle going through such a hole, but Bertrum and Joey would do just fine.

"What the fuck?" Bertrum muttered.

"Just roll with me!" Joey took his hand, "You'll love it. I promise."

Bertrum was almost sure he wouldn't love it, yet somehow Joey's hand was comforting.

"Come on," Joey led him through, and Bertrum followed with reluctance.

They both stepped out on to a catwalk. Bertrum followed the path with his eyes long before Joey stepped on to it, and the railings disappeared into the dark.

"Bertrum," Joey began, "I know why the investors lost interest for a while. And I understand the economy my studio sits in."

Joey's grip tightened.

"We weren't doing anything new. Nothing spectacular. The investors asked me many, many times if I'd ever consider making animated movies, expand our portfolio, but animation isn't what our studio is about, Bertrum."

Bertrum looked into the building this catwalk ran through, but he couldn't see anything.

"Our studio is about  _ him." _

Bertrum's eyes narrowed at Joey, "Who?"

"Bendy!" Joey threw his arm up, "It's about! Bendy! And while the investors and the world simply expected me to make Bendy movies, or even movies that don't involve the Bendy cast at all - can you believe they'd ask that?! - I! I was a visionary. I had different plans."

Joey suddenly spun around and took both of Bertrum's hands, "Like you, Bertie."

Bertrum blinked.

"That's why I was so ready to work with you in the first place! You pushed the envelope of theme park innovation, and that's the kind of man I needed! A visionary! Someone like me."

Joey let go of one of Bertrum's hands as he kept leading him forward. They started their way down a spiral staircase, and each step against the metal rang through a surprisingly open hall.

"We're in a theatre," Bertrum mumbled, "Why do you have a theatre?"

They reached the bottom step, and walked out on to a stage.

"Because I needed the space," Joey declared, "For my vision."

Bertrum heard some clanging noises off to his side as Joey threw a massive switch. Then, qll of the theatre's lights flickered on, their massive beams cascading across the hall and on to... A massive  _ thing. _

"Bloody hell," Bertrum whispered.

It was a machine, massive and robust as it took more than half of the stage. It had large pipes encircling its box-like exterior, each pipe holding gallons upon gallons of ink. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of gallons. On the side facing the two men, Bertrum noticed a large control panel, lined with buttons and knobs with purposes he couldn't discern.

"Jesus Christ, Joey," Bertrum whispered, "What is this thing?"

Joey let go of Bertrum's hand as he strolled towards the machine. He threw his arms out as he spoke, as if a preacher to his church.

"The Ink Machine!" he cheered, "This! Is the Ink Machine! A marvel of mechanical wonder! A mechanism unlike any other!"

And he spun around to face Bertrum, his feet now moving backwards towards the machine. His grin was wide, almost sadistic, as his eyes glinted with power. It was the first time Bertrum had seen such life behind his eyes. The sparks of lightning dancing behind those icey blues made Bertrum's heart skip a beat.

"This machine?" Joey slapped one of the walls, the metal  _ clank  _ ringing through empty hall, "It creates  _ life." _

Bertrum's eyes narrowed. His heart stopped.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

Joey smacked both of his hands against the machine, "It. Creates life. Think about it! What is the one thing no other character creator has done? Hm? That's right,  _ bring their creations to life.  _ To REAL life! Leaving Bendy on the page is a sin against his creation! Leaving Bendy, Alice, Boris, Barley Charley Edgar, leaving them on the page?! They're all deserving of seeing the real world! Of meeting their fans!"

Oh god. Joey was insane. That was all Bertrum could think; he was falling for a madman.

But Joey saw his doubt.

"Do you not believe in me?" Joey's expression looked as if he had been hit by a train.

Bertrum glared, "Do you really blame me? Visionary is one thing, Joey. But... I. I need to see proof."

Joey perked up.

"Has this thing been successful?" Bertrum asked, "How does it work?"

"The ink!" Joey gestured towards the pipes, "It's charged with an energy!"

Oh no.

"... an energy?" Bertrum repeated.

Joey grimaced, "Yes. An energy."

"You're electrifying the ink?"

"No!" Joey shook his hands, "It's. Uh."

He gazed up at the pipes. Bertrum perked an eyebrow as he returned Joey's grimace.

"Joey, is this some sort of spiritual mumbo jumbo?"

"It's not! Spiritual! Mumbo! Jumbo!" Joey snapped.

"Okay!" Bertrum held his hands up in surrender, "Were you actually involved in this?"

"Yes! Absolutely, this machine wouldn't work without my intervention!" Joey beamed.

Who knew Joey Drew could actually contribute to a project?

Bertrum smiled, "Wonderful! Alright. How does it work? Surely you presented this to the investors, what did you tell them?"

Joey put his hands on his hips as a big fake smile spread across his lips, "They have no idea this exists."

Bertrum deflated, "... what?"

"Do you really think investors would support this, Bertie?"

Bertrum thought about it for a second, "N-no..."

"Exactly."

"No wonder they stopped giving you money for a bit!" Bertrum snapped, "The economy didn't have shit to do with it, you were lying!"

"But that's not the point! Now is it!" Joey argued, "The point is this machine runs on massive amounts of electricity, ink, and. ... something else."

The way Joey said "something else" sent a chill up Bertrum's spine.

"What else?" Bertrum asked.

"I have no idea," Joey brought his hands up and folded them, "I don't know what I put into it. But I put something in there."

"You put something... what?!" Bertrum shook his head, "Joey, you're making no sense."

"To be quite honest? I'm not sure you'd believe me if I just. Told you what I put in here. Because I looked it up and thought I knew what I was doing but apparently! I was wrong."

Bertrum blinked, "... okay?"

Joey mulled over his words, "But I also don't want to show you... What came out of this."

"So a living being has come out of this machine?!" Bertrum's mind was racing, "Let me see it! I told you, I wanted to see proof!"

"I can't."

"Why not?!"

"It's dangerous."

"It's ink."

"You don't understand."

"What do I not understand?!"

"It's not... nice," Joey's brow furrowed as he walked over to Bertrum, "It's... Bloodthirsty. Hungry. Mad."

Okay, this felt like a farce at this point, and Bertrum was really starting to wonder if it was.

"This is nonsense," Bertrum growled.

"It's really! Not!" Joey spat.

"You are trying to trick me with all this energy bullshit!" Bertrum poked Joey's chest, "What do you take me for? Some superstitious old prude?!"

"No!" Joey pushed Bertrum's hand away, "I take you for a man that would believe me because he trusts me!"

Bertrum groaned, "Despite my better judgement, I do have _some_ trust in you, but... but this?! Joey, you're telling me some magical ink machine can make living beings out of ink?! That's preposterous! And then it makes something _dangerous?!_ My own grandmother could be saying the same things as you and I wouldn't believe her! Don't you get it?!"

Joey glared. 

"... I..."

Bertrum raised an eyebrow.

"... YOU'RE RIGHT!" Joey stomped his foot, "I swear to God, I'm telling you the truth, I really am! This is real! This thing is real, I swear on everything!"

Joey pulled at his own hair.

Bertrum took a step towards him and wrapped an arm around him tentatively, hoping to offer support. Joey immediately leaned back against him, falling into a hug. Bertrum hugged him back, holding him close as he closed his eyes.

"... you do need proof," Joey mumbled against Bertrum's shoulder.

"Yes, Joseph, I really do."

Joey grumbled slightly, and Bertrum chuckled. Joey then lifted his head up to gaze at his newly-appointed lover.

"We have to wait until Tom and I have time. I can't take that abomination on alone," Joey dropped his head slightly, pouting, "I'll need Tom."

"Alright?" Bertrum hugged him close again, "I promise, once you show me proof? I will believe you."

"And I have proof!"

"I know!"

"I have it!"

"I know..."

There was a pause. A long, awkward pause that made Bertrum uncomfortable. His brain scrambled, looking for a way to bring Joey's spirits back up, and after another long second or two, he hit gold.

"Hey!"

Joey met his eyes.

"Why don't you come over to my place this weekend?"

Joey's eyes grew wide, "O. Okay!"

"Yeah!" Bertrum smiled, "Spend the day! We can have some delicious lunch, sit by the radio, just. Relax! And spend time together!"

Joey's eyes lit back up at the thought, "O... okay!"

"Alright!" Bertrum chuckled.

And Joey hugged him tighter.

Joey may have been talking crazy for the past half hour, but Bertrum had been through much worse with him. This was the least of what could be called their "relationship problems," yet Joey was still overcome with relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY I GOT TO WRITE ABOUT THE DANG INK MACHINE-  
> Anyway, if you guys enjoyed this chapter, please leave a kudos, a comment, or even bookmark it! I have ideas! And I'm running with them! I even have an ending vaguely planned, but that's later 🤣  
> But see you next week! Love ya guys 😘


	18. Grandad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joetrum are going on a date to Bertrum's house! And sometimes the journey is just as a good as the destination~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus dudes! I had a new class I was starting, didn't have the time to write.  
> But now I do, so enjoy this soft chapter in return for my absence! 😊

But it wasn't too long until Saturday morning rolled along. "We will meet at the edge of the city, next to Marla's Hair Salon!" Bertrum had said, "Then you can follow me home." Joey, however, was suspicious of everything about this meeting. About this date.

He hadn't been on a real, serious date in a good bit.

Joey of course brought his gifted car, newly waxed and shining in the fall sun. This Saturday was particularly warm, so Joey was forced to wear a short sleeve knitted tee and light trousers. The white and blue knitted pattern of his shirt went perfectly with his blue pants, and two-toned oxfords served as a sort of status emblem, sticking out with their shimmering black leather. Women batted their eyelashes as they passed by him and his car, and it took every ounce of Joey's self restraint to not return the gesture.

"It's been a while since I've been taken," he mumbled to himself.

But it was a Saturday! All the women were out in their casual dresses and pants, strutting around New York as they shopped, ate, and laughed together. Joey leaned against his car and watched them go by, their skirts bouncing with their every step. He watched with envy as a group of young women followed a young man, chatting him up like there was no tomorrow. Every word the man said seemed to sweep them off their feet, as all the girls sighed in pure adoration, which, to them, was fair. The man was a fine-looking lad, and could probably have any man or woman he wanted. Joey also noticed a group of older men in the nearby park, smoking together and muttering back and forth. They laughed together, their voices ringing deep and strong like church bells, and Joey's eyes traced their well-groomed faces and smiles.

"This is torture," Joey decided, "Being in a relationship is torture."

But the torture was just getting started.

Just then, a very loud rumble rang through Joey's ears, and he grumbled as he glanced down the street.

A motorcycle casually rolled up the road, its motor's purr bringing the attention of many onlookers. The men Joey had watched glanced as it rolled by, and the girls Joey had seen started whispering to their boy toy. The biker was a bit of a show off, with a glistening leather jacket, Harley cap, and jeans. Looked like a magazine cover in-person.

"Fucking kids," Joey muttered towards the biker.

But then... the motorcycle pulled up in front of Joey's car. Joey narrowed his eyes as the rider pulled his goggles up on to his hat and flashed a smile back to Joey.

"Ready to go?" a dull red beard and mustache lined his lips.

_ "BERTRUM?!"  _ Joey leapt up, "What the- WHAT- A  _ MOTORCYCLE?" _

"Yes!" Bertrum chuckled, "It's my favorite mode of transportation!"

"You are a grown man!" Joey exclaimed.

"Well, they won't allow toddlers to ride motorcycles, Joseph."

Joey blinked,  _ "YOU'RE 60!" _

"I am 61, and I'm sorry that your weak ass at 56 can't handle riding a motorcycle."

And to be fair, Bertrum was definitely owning his motorcycle look. The jeans wore well on his muscular legs, and his leather jacket had a fanciful "Piedmont" patch across the back, along with a line of fur around the neck. Somehow he even pulled off the leather boots that matched his jacket as they went up under his cuffed jeans.

"You're sixty?!" another voice asked.

Bertrum glanced over, "Sixty-one, boy, now don't interrupt the adults."

"But you're riding a Harley!" the guy that Joey had been envying just moments ago came over, "I wish my grandad was that cool."

Joey watched the life leave Bertrum's eyes at the word "grandad," and he couldn't help but snicker at Bertrum's misfortune.

Joey smirked, "Yeah, grandad."

_ "Fuck off, Joey.  _ You're fifty-six!" Bertrum spat before turning to the younger group, "What does that make him?"

"A really old dad," one of the girls suggested.

"Not even young enough to be a real dad or old enough to be a grandad," Bertrum observed.

Joey shrugged, "I mean. You're still grandad, and I'm younger, so who's the real winner here-"

_ "I said fuck off, Joey Drew." _

"Joey Drew?" one of the girls stepped forward, "You mean... Bendy?"

Joey straightened his collar, his back arching with pride as he held his head high.

"Yes! That's me! Joey Drew, the CEO of Joey Drew Studios!"

The entire group started gawking.

"Oh, piss off," Bertrum crossed his arms.

They practically surrounded Joey, barraging him with questions and compliments. Joey once again leaned against his car, answering all, bragging about the studio, and describing the animation process. Every word that came out of his mouth was verbal gold to these fans, and they listened with all their hearts and minds as he spoke.

Well, that was, until Bertrum butted in.

"Joey?" he grabbed Joey's arm, "We have a meeting? Remember? The reason we're here?"

"But these are Bendy's fans!" Joey argued.

"Ah, I guess that is more important," and Bertrum moved back towards his motorcycle.

His words shot Joey in the chest at point blank range, and Joey moved after him.

"N-no!" he took Bertrum's arm in turn, "You're right. This is more important."

Bertrum's eyes grew with shock.

"Sorry," Joey smiled before turning to his admirers, "I gotta go, guys! Important business and all of that!"

"It was wonderful to meet you!" the boy exclaimed.

Joey bid them all farewell, shaking their hands and sending them on their way. The group even waved to them as they walked away.

"... I actually felt it there."

Joey turned, "Felt what? My hatred for kids?"

Bertrum snorted, "No! I guess that's a topic for when we get to my place, but! ... I felt that you loved me."

Joey blushed slightly.

"I really felt it just now," Bertrum gave him the warmest smile his old lips could muster.

"It's just. I," Joey's heart pounded a bit too fast in his chest, "Youaremoreimportant- now come on, let's go."

Joey quickly shuffled to his car door, opening up the door and sliding inside. But before he could shut it back, a hand caught the door.

Joey scowled, "Bertrum! What the fuck are you-"

Bertrum leaned in, holding his hat to his head as he pressed a gentle kiss on Joey's cheek. His beard was fuzzy against Joey's skin.

"BERTRUM."

Bertrum stood back up, "Just follow me!"

"SOMEONE COULD HAVE SEEN THAT!" Joey rasped.

Bertrum brushed off his concerns, "They didn't!"

But Joey pouted in his car anyway.

Bertrum pulled out, on to a long road leading on to the horizon, and Joey pulled after, following him into the countryside.

Once you left the city limits of New York City, the housing became surprisingly sparse. Long farms extended for miles and miles, rolling green pastures gliding under the hooves of cows and horses as they trotted alongside the short wooden fences. The road itself was well-paved, sure, but there was a surprising lack of traffic. Joey found himself coasting behind Bertrum for miles and miles, just enjoying the quiet scenery and the oddly attractive grandad on a motorcycle in front of him.

Joey snorted, and he stuck his head out the window, "HEY GRANDAD-"

_ "JOSEPH." _

Joey laughed before continuing, "HOW LONG IS THIS GONNA TAKE?"

"PULL UP!"

Joey shrugged before pressing his foot to the gas and speeding up to Bertrum's side. Both of them now drove, side by side, on the same road.

"Fuck your roads being on the right, by the by!" Bertrum snorted, "I get confused all the time!"

Joey's heart fluttered as he heard that British accent...  _ Deepen. _

"Where are you from in Britain?" Joey asked.

"London!" Bertrum replied, "Mum and dad were both Londoners through and through! You?"

"Me?"

"Yes you!" Bertrum nodded, "Where are you from?"

Joey scowled, "How close are we to your house?!"

"Not!" Bertrum chuckled, "This street leads only there, though, so we can ride side by side! Now come on, where you from?"

Joey took a deep breath, "Pennsylvania! I'm actually from Pennsylvania. Grew up wanting to be a New Yorker, hated my dad's bank. Hated doing all that damn money work."

"You had a real job?" Bertrum asked jokingly.

Joey threatened to swerve his car into his lover - only as a joking threat, of course - and Bertrum laughed in response.

"Have you ever WORKED WITH MONEY? I HATED IT!" Joey shouted, "Being a banker's son was nothing short of the most boring childhood a kid can have! And my mother was as fun as paint drying, Bertrum! God!"

Bertrum cackled.

From there, they started racing down the road. Bertrum was the first to initiate the race, pulling in front of Joey just a tad, and in turn, Joey pulled a bit in front of him. One pulled up, then the other, and soon they had sped off far beyond any speed limit.

It felt... Wonderful.

Joey remembered stealing his dad's car to race around the streets back home. He remembered the thrill, the adrenaline, the  _ fame  _ of winning those street races, and now was no different as he and Bertrum flew down the road. The excitement was akin to the race to Sardi's, months ago, but better. Much, much better.

Soon, however, a large structure peaked over the horizon. It had to have been large, or Joey wouldn't have seen it from so far away. It was at this point that Bertrum slowed down, coming back to Joey's window as he grinned over to him.

"You see it?"

"Yeah?" Joey glanced over before looking back to the road.

"That's my home!"

Joey pressed into the gas, speeding further down the road. He looked forward once more, and indeed, that was a house. A large house. A very, very large house.

It honestly looked out of place, antiquated compared to most of the American mansions. Old, intricate dark brown molding split extremely clean beige walls. Tall windows with iron sills stood at attention along the walls, each covered with a set of neutral-colored curtains on the inside. There was even a tower in the middle, with its own much smaller windows, and from that tower the two wings of the manor took shape, with one on the right and one on the left. The roof matched the molding, in that it was an intricate pattern of dark brown shingles that stood the testament of time, shining bright in the afternoon sun.

"Holy shit," Joey slowed down as they got closer.

_ His lover really was loaded. _

"This isn't as impressive as my house back in Blighty!" Bertrum exclaimed, "You Americans have much simpler architecture, not a huge fan."

"... Blighty?"

"England."

"You arrogant ass, you live in a MANSION!" Joey pouted, "How dare you complain about architecture when you LIVE IN A MANSION."

Bertrum snorted, "I'm telling you, this one really isn't that impressive! I love livin' in it, but it's not the home I have in Blighty!"

The two drove up into the massive circle in front of the manor and parked their vehicles. Joey practically threw himself out of his car, running to the manor to make sure it was real. He touched the stair railing and gasped.

"It is real."

Bertrum cackled.

And the question tumbled out of Joey's mouth before he could think, "Why the fuck are you in a relationship with me?"

The mansion, the cycle, the accent; Bertrum was two hundred times more interesting than Joey had ever thought himself to be.  _ But Bertrum wasn't supposed to know that!  _ Joey couldn't turn around to face him now. That question was so embarrassing and insecure that he just looked up to the beautiful oak front doors and started towards them.

"Well, I had better get the grand tour-"

But Joey was cut off as two big, burly arms pulled him back into a hug from behind.

"Because you're a shrewd arse," Bertrum whispered against Joey's head, "You're a shrewd arse who gave jobs to people that needed them. Your extremely female and diverse staff is... Something I admire more than anything. And the fact you cut them no slack even more so. That, alone, shows there is something in your heart to love. I can't wait to find all the reasons to love you, and I can't wait to trust your machine. Because I know both of those things will come with you."

Joey actually sniffed. He blinked twice, pushing back the tears that threatened to peak out from his eyes.

"Thank you," he muttered.

"You're welcome," Bertrum walked past, took his hand, and led him up the stairs, "But you're right! I am going to give you the grand tour! Buckle up, we got about 25 rooms to explore!"

"...  **_TWENTY FIVE ROOMS?!_ ** _ " _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE! YOU ALL! ENJOYED! LEARNING ABOUT BERTRUM'S MIDLIFE CRISIS! I've genuinely had this motorcycle headcanon for months, and I'm very glad I finally got to share it! I want to draw both that and Joey's look from this chapter at some point. Some day.
> 
> Anyway, if you enjoyed, PLEASE leave a kudos and a comment, and I will see you next week to tour Bertrum's house! Byeee! 😘


	19. Albert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tour through Bertrum's manor brings up remants of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS IS LATE, LIFE IS SUFFERING-

And twenty five rooms is a lot of rooms. They spanned down massive hallways, hid behind small corners, and gazed down from the top of stairwells. Joey's brain was spinning from all the walls and bannisters. His house could fit in this manor at least twenty times, and the studio could fit at least twice! It was a lot! Too much!

... if you weren't Joey Drew.

Joey had grown into business by manipulating the rich. For years he had pulled investors in to his needs, and even now, as his brain struggled to keep up wifh Bertrum's dialogue, he was still on high alert. He recognized Armani suits, Tiffany lamps, real gold and real silver. He recognized oil paintings and marble sculptures, and while everything radiated an average "rich man's second home" vibe, one thing kept sticking out to Joey.

The photos.

Some of the photos were normal, with Bertrum and his parents, his coworkers, what looked like friends at bars and events, but interlaced in these photos was one man. The man was quite handsome, with raven black hair and stunning brown eyes. He always wore suits, and his smile was huge when Bertrum was in the photos with him. His teeth were just as awful as Bertrum's, too. And he was in pictures with everyone. He knew Bertrum's family, his coworkers, and his friends. And the way he looked bugged Joey to no end.

The living room, the office, the downstairs parlor, the upstairs parlor, the gallery, the pool room; this man was everywhere in the manor. With everyone. And his smile slowly went from something wide and caring to mocking and pointed. Joey even found himself trying to avoid the man's gaze any time they passed a picture of him. Joey didn't want to ask. He really didn't. Bertrum was having so much fun showing off his home! It was obvious he hadn't had a romantic partner over in a while! But the man and his body language in every photo he was in made Joey consider that this man was the one that came before him, long ago. He was almost definitely Bertrum's ex.

So. Joey finally decided to confirm his suspicions.

"Bertie?"

They had just entered the second kitchen in the home. The upstairs kitchen. Why would anyone need an upstairs kitchen?

"Yes?" Bertrum turned to him.

Joey took a photo from next to the kitchen door. It had two figures that Joey knew were Bertrum's parents. The woman was wearing a long evening gown that fit perfectly with her pointed body, while the man was larger and more muscular than Bertrum was now. It was more than obvious these two had come together to be his parents.

But the man? He and Bertrum were with them.

"Who is this?" Joey held up the frame and pointed to the man.

For a moment, Bertrum blinked, but then he softly chuckled.

"I'm not still dating him, if that's what you're asking."

"No," Joey scowled, "That's not what I'm asking. That does answer another question, but I want to know who he is."

"Do I have to tell you every lover of mine?" Bertrum asked.

"No!" Joey argued, "Just the one that's appeared in half of your photos."

Bertrum grimaced, "How are you so observant?"

Joey smirked, "It's how I got this far. Now come on, who is he?"

Bertrum sighed. He then crossed his arms, his eyes going fuzzy, to another place and another time. He even leaned against the doorframe. Seems he had a lot to say.

"His name was Albert. Albert Hawthorne. He was one of my lead engineers in the thirties. He was bloody brilliant, absolutely talented, and..."

Joey raised an eyebrow.

"I loved him. We dated for years in secret, even had my parents' blessing when they were alive. They adored him... Follow me."

Suddenly, Bertrum took off into the house, and Joey sprinted after. It once again like the race to Sardi's, save Joey was losing even worse now. Bertrum picked up picture after picture, collecting a small group of ornate frames before they finally settled in the downstairs parlor.

The parlor felt more expensive than Joey's entire house. The walls were a rich gold color, exemplified by the lamps that radiated a warm glow, and joists made a cross pattern across the golden ceiling. Brown and gold tiles rolled under an intricate carpet and red sofas, each with gold pillows that matched the walls. At the head of the room, a brown brick fireplace sat, stoked by a butler that Joey hadn't seen. It felt mythical, like something from a story.

Joey was winded by the time they settled into the deep red couches, so he happily fell on to the cozy cushions.

"Here," Bertrum handed the first photo over.

And Joey took it, "You look like a kid."

In the photo, Bertrum and who Joey suspected to be Albert stood in front of a factory of some sort. Bertrum was much thinner, with a much fuller mane and no facial hair. His green eyes were as bright as ever above his big smile, and he wore a very snappy suit.

"I was!" Bertrum laughed, "I was barely 25! That's when I started looking for engineers that could help with design work, and Albert was the very first."

"The very first?"

"Mm hmm."

Bertrum handed him the next photo. Thus, Joey set the first one aside and looked at it. It had Albert sitting in front of a work site, shirtless with one of his suspenders falling off his shoulder. The man was sculpted like a God, and Joey definitely took notice.

"... Albert is gorgeous," Joey decided.

"Yes, he was my awakening, honestly."

"Really?" Joey looked over, "I knew I liked guys when I was in my teens!"

"And I didn't have the freedom to know until I was a young adult!" Bertrum countered, "In my early twenties I was a wild child. My parents thought I was working when I was in America but..."

Bertrum shrugged.

"My parents would have killed me had they even found out I fancied men," Joey said, "And I mean literal murder."

"My mum and dad were more of the line of thinking: "as long as you keep making money and no one knows, we don't give a shit." "

"That had to be nice!" Joey snapped, "My parents called me a fool for wanting to start my studio! They hated the arts! They said I'd never succeed and kicked me out for even thinking of it!"

Bertrum blinked.

Joey glared back at the photo, avoiding eye contact. He then felt a gentle kiss against his head, and Bertrum's fingers threaded through the back of his hair. The touches were so gentle that Joey closed his eyes at their softness.

Bertrum laid his head against Joey's shoulder, "Then I'm very proud of you for proving them wrong."

And Joey leaned his head back against Bertrum's.

"... thank you."

"... Your parents in Hell?"

"Probably."

"Mine probably are too, for the greed alone."

Joey snickered.

Bertrum then handed Joey the next frame with his open hand, and Joey gladly took it to see.

"This was our fifth full park," Bertrum pointed at the photo as he spoke, "It was a project that took ten years. So much clearing, planning, and work. It was spectacular. And it was the mark of me and Albert being together for five years."

"That park does look impressive," Joey agreed, "That wooden coaster is huge."

Bertrum's head shot up, "Oh! My! God!"

"... what?!" Joey glanced over.

"You recognized what kind of coaster that is!"

"It's wooden!" Joey argued, "It was easy."

"Half of my coasters are made with some wood, but that one! That one is a wooden coaster!" Bertrum kissed Joey sweetly, heavily, "You really do listen to me."

Joey smirked once more, "Does me knowing about coasters turn you on?"

"GOD," Bertrum laughed, "Not too much, but it makes me very happy to know you listen to me sometimes."

"Hey! Remember!" Joey held up his finger, "Only sometimes."

"Fuck! Off!" Bertrum pushed him as he laughed again, "Anyway! Yes, Albert and I had been together for five years, and he had proposed to me-"

"Really?!"

"Yes!"

"Then why are we here?!" Joey gestured around them, "Why aren't you married to this hot engineer?!"

Bertrum's smile faltered slightly, but it stayed well across his face. He picked up another photo and handed it to Joey.

The photo was just of a park. There was no one in front of it besides normal customers, and the park itself seemed to be at full capacity. Rides were rolling and people were strolling. There wasn't a sign to say which park this was, though, which Joey found strange.

Bertrum, however, pointed to the ferris wheel.

"As we were working on the wheel," he sighed, "A piece of sheet metal fell and cut him open."

Joey froze. For a good minute he just stared at the ferris wheel, but then he turned to Bertrum.

"... what?" Joey whispered.

"He died on the scene," Bertrum's head fell back against Joey's shoulder, "I remember him unable to scream. There was too much blood. The metal had cut so deep, and it hit his lungs. It was. Fucking awful."

Joey was emotionally stunted. He had no idea what to say. His brain was nothing but confused screaming, and his hands were getting clammy. Instead of speaking, he just went back to staring at the photo, his eyes wider than dinner plates.

"It's okay," Bertrum took the photo from him, "That was over twenty years ago, but I'm sure you understand my shock now, at that "marriage material" comment you made."

Joey just froze from shock.

"Bygones must be bygones," Bertrum declared, "I keep his photos here because I'm not here as much. I usually stop to sleep in my penthouse in New York instead of coming out here, but you needed the full rich man experience. I wanted to bring you here, because this is more of who I am then that penthouse. That penthouse is a bygone era of a silly rich kid, but this?"

Bertrun gestured to the home at large.

"This is me. And Joey?"

Joey gazed over to him.

"I want you to have the full rich man experience for yourself. I want to buy you copious amounts of fancy suits and expensive toys, like cars and houses. I want to take you to my other parks and teach you more about my work. And I want to know more about yours. I want to see your house, your photo albums, your Hellbound folks... But also," Bertrum's brow furrowed, "I want to see what came out of that machine."

Bertrum's serious tone carried his accent heavily, and-

That accent.

_ That accent. _

Joey's brain started spinning to life again. His brow furrowed as he stared into those green eyes, green eyes that felt more familiar suddenly.

The penthouse in New York.

The voice.

_ The voice. _

"Speak," Joey ordered.

"Excuse me?" Bertrum asked, "What the fuck are you-"

"Oh my god," Joey sprung up off the couch, "You! You need to take me to your penthouse! The one in the city! You need to take me there, and you need to take me there right now!!"

Bertrum was a wild kid. His parents thought he was working when he was in America. Parties, rich people, British boy, deep voice-

"What?!" Bertrum got up with him, "Joey, what's going on?!"

"I think! I'm going crazy!" Joey pulled at his own hair, "But take me by your bike if it's faster, I don't care, we just! Need to get to your penthouse, and we need to get there now!"

"Why?!" Bertrum asked.

"Because!" Joey pointed at Bertrum with conviction, "We have met before."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway yeah! Sorry this is so late, kinda had an emotional crisis and the whole. Quarantine thing.  
> We're nearing the end of this fic tho, so stay tuned! Next week, we go to the penthouse, and I think you guys know what will happen when we get there! 😏


	20. Moving Pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey remembers a day long past, and he tries his damndest to remind Bertrum of it.

Joey officially hated motorcycles. While snuggling against Bertrum's back felt like a dream come true, the bugs flying past him and the wind ruining his look took at least half the joy out of the experience. It didn't matter though. It really didn't. Flies and flustered hair meant nothing.

Because Joey had remembered something big.

Bertrum sped into the city, with Joey's anxiety pushing him along. "Hurry!" "I promise, I'm not crazy!" "You gotta do this, I think we've met, I really do!" But Bertrum trusted him. Or at least he was trying to, and for good reason.

If they really had met before, and somehow the penthouse could prove this, then perhaps the Ink Machine wouldn't be so hard to believe. Joey was a man that worked by his own plans, a gentleman who's thoughts were far more selfish than most, so for his brain to prioritize something like this felt substantial to Bertrum. Hopeful, even. After all, he knew what a wooden coaster was! There could be some real love in him! And if somehow Joey remembered something about their past that Bertrum didn't, then that love could really be there! Bertrum was hoping for it, so he threaded through stalled traffic without question, ready to spring off his cycle the second they were parked.

And it didn't take long.

Bertrum rolled into the parking lot, sliding in next to the door to the complex his penthouse sat atop.

"Go!" he handed his key to Joey, "Top floor suite!"

And Joey shot into the building as if he were on fire.

Bertrum locked up his bike and stored his helmet before running after, but Joey was already gone by the time he got inside. Thus, Bertrum leapt towards the stairs and opened the door. The big metal thing swung with conviction as it threatened to hit the wall.

"That blonde guy was with you, right?"

Bertrum glanced back to the receptionist for the building.

"Yes, Darlene."

"Good," she went back to filing her nails.

And Bertrum began his ascent.

As he ran up the stairs, his brain turned to fuzz. Remembering Albert had been hard, and talking about him with Joey had been harder. Seeing the shock and horror on Joey's face at Albert's death had been the worst; the man looked like a ghost at hearing of death. And if that hadn't been enough, now Joey was going on another seemingly mad tirade! But Bertrum was going to trust him, even if his logic told him not to. He was going. To trust Joey.

Joey.

The man with the Ink Machine.

"... god."

But then Bertrum heard it. The scratching. The scratching from Joey's studio, locked somewhere deep beneath the offices. He stopped and shook his head, realizing he was just hearing things, but the stairs felt so similar, the anxiety so similar. He almost took a step when another thought came to his mind.

"The scratching. The machine."

Could they be linked? It was a possibility Bertrum wanted to entertain, but now wasn't the time, unfortunately. He had to get to Joey, and thus he got back to running.

Eventually Bertrum reached the top floor, and the first thing that greeted him was the sound of Joey screaming  _ "OH MY GOD!" _ from somewhere in his living room.

"Joey?" Bertrum walked into the doorway, but Joey ran and grabbed him.

"Come! HERE!" Joey drug him through.

"Wha-"

Joey pulled him across the black and white tiled floor and out on to the balcony, "Okay! Stand here and lean on the railing!"

Trust Joey.

"Alright," Bertrum did as he was told.

The black iron railing was cold, but it felt good after that long run. Bertrum found himself panting slightly.

Joey, meanwhile, ran back inside. It was quiet for a moment, as Bertrum looked out to the city, but that silence was broken with another shout from inside.

"OH MY GOD!"

"What?!" Bertrum asked.

"OKAY!" Joey ran to the balcony, to Bertrum's side, "Do you remember-"

_ "Mrow!" _

Joey looked down, and Bertrum's heart leapt.

"Parmy!"

Bertrum reached down, pulling up a big, fluffy Himalayan cat. He took the cream-colored cat into his big arms and held him like a king, and Parmy was so used to it that he purred.

"This is my cat, Parmesan. Parmy for short."

"... you named your cat after a cheese?" Joey asked.

"... yes?"

"I'll mock you for that later, anyway," Joey took a deep breath, "Do you remember 1925?"

"Yes?" Bertrum scratched Parmy's head.

"Okay, do you remember New Years? 1925 to 1926 New Years? You were here in the US, right?" Joey's eyes narrowed.

Bertrum blinked, "Yes. I was!"

"On that night you threw a New Years party. A party in this penthouse," Joey claimed, "And said party was invitation only. Yet, somehow, an outsider got inside. You even called him a "schmoozer." Right?"

Bertrum searched his mind. It had been so long since the 20s. So much had happened! The expansions, the parks, the money, the accidents-

But when he remembered that night, the images hit him like bricks. The blonde man with the ill-fitting shoes, the secondhand suit, the poorly-styled hair. He didn't even have a watch. Despite all of this, the man was absolutely gorgeous, standing out from the crowd like the moon in the sky. The second he came out to the balcony, Bertrum remembered wanting him. Badly. And that...

"... that was you?" Bertrum whispered.

Joey nodded, "You stood right there, seeing through the getup I had for this party."

"And you stood there, flirting your ass off once you realized I was into you!" Bertrum laughed, "I asked "Do you have an interest in men?" "

"And I think I said something like: "Right now," " Joey stepped forward, recounting his words, " "I definitely do." "

"Oh! MY GOD!" Bertrum turned a complete circle as his adrenaline raced, "We met as kids! Mere childre-"

"MERP."

Parmy jumped from his arms, uncomfortable with the scene as he strolled back into the penthouse. He even hissed at Joey, and Joey frowned.

"... animals don't like you, do they?" Bertrum asked.

"Dogs do!" Joey corrected, "That's about it."

"But Joey!" Bertrum interjected, "We kissed! That night we kissed! I remember it, I remember it so well!"

"I.. I do too."

The expression on Joey's face was. Confusing. He seemed conflicted, yet he was smiling as he tried to conquer the argument in his mind.

"I've been around romantically. As I'm sure you've heard?" Joey asked.

Bertrum nodded with a grimace.

"Nono, listen," Joey's brow furrowed, "My history is important here, because I have locked lips with stars. With goddesses. With the best names in talent that I could get close to. Yet, no matter how much I let myself get around..."

Bertrum's grimace dropped slightly as he raised an eyebrow.

"I thought back to that kiss. That kiss. That night. Sometimes I thought that every kiss after that was me chasing after the same spark, trying to find the same magic. I mean. I'm a businessman. I'm a CEO. I'm an artist sometimes. But despite all of that, that night..."

Joey searched for the words. Bertrum's eyes were wide as he waited for him to finish.

"Yes?" Bertrum asked.

"... I was alive," Joey nodded, "Yeah. I felt. Alive with you. And every time we've been together since our partnership over the park has felt the same. I feel like. I'm living for something. I feel like. I have. A life when I'm around you. Everything else feels like moving pictures, but when I'm with you!"

Joey suddenly jolted to life.

"I feel like a person!" he threw his arms out, "I feel like a man that really exists in a world that is so cold and unforgiving. A world so palpable yet stiff! When I'm with you, everything bends a little different, and when I'm with you I feel my heart beating, and when I'm with you!"

Tears started to bubble into Joey's eyes. Meanwhile, Bertrum had a hand up in front of his face. His heart was going in to shock.

"I feel! Real!" Joey croaked slightly, "I'm not a CEO. I'm not a businessman. I'm Joey Drew. And that's the best feeling I've ever felt in my life."

Bertrum's arms struck out, taking Joey and pulling him into a caring hold. Joey felt his lover quietly crying on his shoulder, crying tears of sheer love as he held Joey close. Joey hugged him back, snuggling into the fuzz around the collar of his leather coat. He closed his eyes as a calm swept over his heart.

"I love you," he spoke into the fuzz, "I love you so much, Bertrum Piedmont."

Bertrum pulled his head up just enough that he could lean against the side of Joey's head and whisper into his ear: "I love you too, Joey Drew."

It took some time, but after they stopped crying, the two men just quietly held one another. They looked out on to the city, the twinkling lights of the skyscrapers ticklkng at the stars, and Parmy even circled their legs once in a while, pressing against Bertrum before sauntering away. Below them, car horns occasionally called, echoing down streets that hollowed out as the night turned dark.

"Come back in," Bertrum eventually said, taking Joey's hand and leading him in.

Joey happily felt the warmth of Bertrum's skin, squeezing his hand back with sappy sentiment. Did he care it was sappy? No. He was far too in-love.

"We were meant to be," Joey declared.

"Yes, yes we were," Bertrum agreed as he led Joey through.

At first Joey thought they were going to the living room. After all, what's more romantic than curling up by the window on a late Fall's eve? Maybe even have a warm beverage? But no. Bertrum steered them both into another room.

The bedroom.

"Oh," Joey breathed, "Are we?"

"Yes," Bertrum's voice was dark with conviction.

"We are!"

"Yes."

"Is this what I get for showing my emotions?"

**"Yes."**

Joey smirked, "I'll have to show my emotions all the time!"

**_"Yes."_ **

And Bertrum shut the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow, this is the 20th chapter!!! I can't believe I've gotten this far
> 
> This fic will be wrapping up soon, so if you enjoyed it thus far please leave a kudos and a comment telling me so! Thanks for reading, and see ya next week at some point! Bye ^^


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